Cordy Archives - Page 52 of 56

Aug 8, 2007

Morning Drop Off and a Bottle Opener

Amazingly, Cordy wanted to go to school today. Actually came up to me at home and said, “School?” and then rushed me to get everything together and get out the door. She really wanted to get there! That is, until we actually got there. Then she changed her mind and wailed as if I was leaving her with Britney Spears as a babysitter. Ah well, it’s a little progress, right?

While trying to say goodbye, one teacher pointed out her shirt was on inside out. Oops. I could blame it on her trying to dress herself, but they would only laugh at me, knowing she would sooner explain Einstein’s theory of relativity than take any steps to put on her own clothing. No, mommy is clearly unable to pay attention to how she’s dressing her child.

Still, I’m impressed that she actually asked to go to school this morning, and even carried her backpack out to the car.

We received a call from our county early intervention contact, letting us know that the school district has decided to move up her evaluation one week to September 5. The thought of a public agency calling to move a scheduled date sooner rather than later is mind boggling.

Knowing they want to get her in as soon as possible is reassuring. Especially since yesterday we went to lunch at Bob Evans, where Cordy spent most of the meal under the table because a fly was bothering her. Actually, she’s starting retreating under the table more now when a restaurant is too loud or the lights are too bright or the stars aren’t aligned just so.

Today Cordy calmed down a little at school when I went through our goodbye routine, asking for a hug and a kiss, and reminding her that mommy and daddy always come back. Plus she had brought an item from home to hold, as she does most days.

Having something from home is a comfort to her when something sets her off, and helps the tantrums not last as long. The school normally doesn’t allow kids to bring toys with them, but they understand her particular temperament and make an exception for her. It usually goes into her backpack once she’s calmed down, and only brought out if she’s having a particularly bad day.

Of course, this morning Cordy decided to bring this with her as her comfort object. (Thanks, Sarah!) I can only imagine what they must think of us.

Filed Under: Cordy ·

Aug 7, 2007

Can’t Take The Heat Anymore

By Christina ·

Summer in Ohio is much like winter in Ohio: the weather is so unbearable that you only go outside if you have to.

It seems that while I was away in Chicago for BlogHer, a heatwave snuck into Ohio and sat its big hot ass down on the state (and most of the Midwest) for a long stay. Highs in the mid-90’s, with a heat index well over 100. Sure, those of you from the West might remind me that 90’s are nothing, but unlike you, we don’t have dry heat. We have soupy thick, air quality alert, hurts to breathe, humid air – a sauna that can only be escaped by finding air conditioning.

So just like those cold days of winter, I’ve been biding my time indoors for over a week. And much like those dark January days, I’m slowly going insane trapped in my own little summer version of the Overlook Hotel.

Enter my mother and grandmother – ever the outdoors-women – who swooped in today, told me “oh please, it’s not that bad in the shade,” and insisted we use the water toys sitting in our backyard.

So Cordy put on her “babee-suit” and took Mira’s “sun-gun-asses” and outside we went. And you know what?

It was fun.

Filed Under: Cordy, family time, Mira ·

Aug 3, 2007

But She Really Is Smart

By Christina ·

I was a bundle of nerves this morning, with Cordy’s evaluation looming in the distance of the afternoon. The house needed cleaning, so as to fool our visitor into thinking we’re actually a normal family who has time to keep the house clean and orderly. I spent way too much time picking out the right outfit for Cordy to wear – did I really think her outfit would make a difference?

However, little was accomplished in the morning, mostly because of a certain nine week old who has her second cold (two colds! nine weeks old!) and only wanted to be held by mommy all day long. I started to panic as I sat surrounded by heaps of clutter: DVDs haphazardly strewn around the TV, puzzle pieces perfectly lined up in a row, but blocking the hallway, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse figures stacked carefully in the back of a toy dump truck on some sort of construction sight-seeing tour. Whenever I’d scoop up a small handful of toys, Cordy would follow behind me, pulling out more. She’s good at that.

My mother showed up at lunchtime, convincing Cordy to join her for lunch in order to give me more time to clean. Finally, the house was at least decent, although still not presentable. Oh well, the evaluator would know we’re cluttered, but at least there’s no grime.

She appeared promptly at 2:30, folder and pen in hand. Cordy had been acting pretty good all day, making me worry that her act might fool the woman into thinking she was a perfectly normal child. Please be your normal self, I thought.

The evaluation ended up being mostly a paperwork session, with a little bit of observation. As soon as Cordy warmed up to the new visitor, she did act more like herself. Shrieking, climbing all over me, melting down because I wouldn’t give her more juice while answering the evaluator’s questions, galloping back and forth the length of the living room, etc. We went over what happened during her screening session, too.

Then the questions started. Of course they’re the standard questions, asked of everyone, but my paranoid mind read other meanings into them.

Does anyone in your family have vision or hearing problems? Can we blame her problems on lousy genetics?

What was her birth like? Did you drop her on her head?

What does she eat? Are you some kind of Britney Spears, stunting her development with soda in sippy cups and candy bars?

What’s your education background? Are you too dumb to raise your kid correctly?

Has she seen a dentist? Surely you can convince your child to sit still for a scary man with sharp instruments, right? No?

How much does she sleep? You really are giving her caffeine, aren’t you?

What does your pediatrician say about her physical development? You do have a doctor, right?

Can she name a friend? Or do you keep her locked up in a dark room by herself?

Has she had all of her vaccinations? Or are you one of those hippie no-vax types?

What does your family do for fun? Be honest – you really do drink soda and watch TV all day long, don’t you?

OK, so I know the evaluator wasn’t trying to say I was a bad parent in any way. They’re standard questions, necessary to get the entire picture of Cordy’s health. But I still worried that a “wrong” answer would hurt us somehow.

The result is she is being referred to the city school district for a full five-part evaluation. In our county, the Help Me Grow program ends at three years old, and the school district picks it up from there. Cordy will be three in September, and the evaluator believes that it would be wasting time to not get her into the school district evaluation as soon as possible.

While she isn’t committing to a diagnosis at this point, she does believe that Cordy has a sensory disorder of some sort, and she thinks it is likely the school district will put together an IEP for her, giving her access to the district’s preschool and free therapy. Hearing that was both crushing and a relief at the same time. No one wants to think that their child is anything but perfect, but at the same time, it’s good to know that there are people out there to help Cordy adjust to the world around her. Still, it’s hard to shake the blame game, wondering what I could have done differently to avoid this.

And all was not bad, either. Again I was told that she is very bright. (I keep coming back to that over and over again. It’s the one thing I can be proud of.) The evaluator made a point of telling me that many times gifted children show sensory integration problems. Since I’m unable to not brag about my child, we showed her pictures of Cordy putting Diet Coke cans in order when she was just over a year old, and she also watched the video of Cordy counting to six (although in that clip she misses the number four) at seventeen months old. She is also amazed at how Cordy sees the world in shapes, looking at normal objects and being excited about triangles, rectangles and circles.

Before she left, the evaluator again assured me that Cordy is bright (see? I keep holding onto those words!), she has a great vocabulary, and she seems happy. The problems lie in transitions, certain self-help skills, and a long list of possible sensory issues. All of these problems are treatable, and don’t involve turning her into someone she’s not. Which is good, because I’m not wanting a good little conformist, but I do want a child who can handle hearing a vacuum cleaner or touching applesauce without turning into a screaming, frenzied beast that I am unable to console. The evaluator asked what we would like to change about Cordy’s behavior. I said I want to be able to spend a day out together and have a truly good day – the type of good day any average parent and child can have – and not just a good day for her.

And in the meantime, we go on with life as normal – drinking watered down juice in sippy cups (not soda), sorting poker chips into piles and then lining them up (why do I bother buying her toys?), and watching TV. (If Yo Gabba Gabba doesn’t launch soon, she may take over my computer to watch the video clips online all day. PR reps, I’d gladly take a DVD of that!) And for now we try to avoid her meltdown triggers, and try to comfort her as best we can through each difficult transition, looking forward to a day when we won’t need to worry about such things.

Filed Under: big issues, Cordy ·

Jul 25, 2007

Welcome To Our House. Don’t Mind The Blood.

By Christina ·

We had a first today. Laura brought her twins over for a playdate, along with McD’s breakfast and coffee. (I love any playdate who brings food and coffee!)

That wasn’t the first. Well, I mean, it was Laura’s first time over here, and hopefully after today it won’t be the last.

No, the first was this: Cordy had her first head wound as a result of a meltdown.

The morning was going really well. Cordy was running around the backyard with Grant and Stella, having a blast picking “flowers” (weeds) and playing with the sand table. But when it was time to come back inside, Cordy had a meltdown because I wouldn’t let her bring a rock inside with her.

Yes, it’s a minor thing, but I have to stand firm with her on things like that, or we’d have a house full of rocks, weeds, and cups of sand dumped on the carpet. And sand is a bitch to get out of carpet.

This meltdown started like any other: the high-pitched whining that turned into sobs, throwing herself down on the floor, screaming, etc. Then she progressed to Stage 2 – rolling around on the floor while pounding her fists into the carpet, screaming continuing.

Stage 3 was next, and this involves hitting her head into the floor or wall. This is expected, and I try to ignore her at this point, since I don’t want to encourage her in this type of behavior. It sounds awful, but she has a thick skull, and she only rarely gives herself a bruise.

So when the meltdown began, I advised Laura to bring the twins into the living room and we’d play while letting Cordy work out her frustration in the dining room by the back door. As we sat down, the first *bang* was heard, and I knew she was hitting her head into the door. I explained to Laura that she does this a lot, and we just ignore her.

The screaming continued, and the *bang*‘s continued. After one particularly loud *bang*, I turned around to check on her, and that’s when I saw it. Blood. Streaming down the right side of her face. Lots. of. blood.

I jumped up and ran over to her, wondering how in the world she managed to bloody herself. Cordy didn’t seem to notice the blood now dripping down onto her shirt as she continued her meltdown chant of “Outside! Outside!” Laura fetched wet paper towels for me, and I began wiping off her face, looking for the source of the blood. It just kept coming, and I started to follow the flow up into her hairline, now stained with a streak of red. I finally found the opening – a half-inch cut about two inches above her temple.

She’s OK – it’s a small cut and not very deep. But it did scare me, and it wasn’t a great way to end our first playdate together. It’s no wonder we don’t get many playdate offers.

I can’t believe she split her head open because I told her to leave a rock outside. Someday I will show this entry to her, like when she’s a teen and thinks she’s so much cooler than her mom. Oh yeah? At least I didn’t give myself a gaping head wound over a rock, genius.

Filed Under: Cordy · Tagged: toddler battles

Jul 23, 2007

Our Weekend Outdoors, Complete With Screaming

By Christina ·

So after the stress of last week, we had a full weekend outdoors where I tried hard to forget about anything involving the word “evaluation”. But it kept coming back at me.

Saturday we spent the day at a picnic with several good friends, many of whom we haven’t seen in months. One couple has a son who had many of the same issues that Cordy does now (he’s two years older), and it was nice to sit and discuss solutions they have come across to help him. At one point my friend remarked that it was like we had twins born two years apart. But her son has made incredible progress in the past two years, giving me a lot of hope that Cordy will, too.

Cordy had a wonderful time running in the large open backyard. She spent most of the time on her own, but she did join the two (older) boys in a quick ball game. Actually, she chased them, shouting “Ball! Cordy kick the ball!” and occasionally they’d stop and let her kick the ball.

Running with the big boys

Future soccer star – just look at that form!

She did have several meltdowns during the day, and she refused to eat much of the food. I think she did have fun, though. We just had to keep her away from the road and from the guys throwing knives in the backyard. By the time we left, she was completely coated in a fine layer of dirt. (She doesn’t mind the feel of dirt. Touching grass will set her off, but not dirt.)

Today, we joined Aaron’s parents to go to Inniswood Gardens to see the Big Bugs exhibit. The park was packed full of families with kids. Cordy did pretty well at first – when we came to the first bug sculpture, we let her out of the stroller to get closer. All was fine until she tripped and fell into the grass. She had a minor tantrum over that, but recovered quickly. However, that was enough to make every stop in the park a struggle. If we stopped, she wanted to run. If we wanted to go, she wanted to stay in one place. Over and over again during our time there, she would throw herself to the ground and cry and scream.

But today I paid a lot more attention to everyone around me. And I noticed that none of the other kids acted like Cordy. No other parents were dealing with the tantrum when telling their child not to touch the sculpture. No one else had to peel their child off the pavement just because they said, “Stop! Don’t run too far ahead of us.”

I also noticed other people staring at Cordy at the park. It was clear some people thought we had no idea how to control our child. I could almost hear their thoughts – What’s wrong with that child? Those parents don’t know how to discipline that kid!

Cordy’s a giant, which makes it even worse. She looks like an older three year old or maybe a four year old (she’s now wearing 4T), so people expect her to behave like one.

All I wanted to see was one hissy fit from someone else’s child. One tantrum, one episode of breath-holding or foot stomping or screaming or hitting or collapsing on the ground. But there were none. Today must have been Perfect Child Day at Inniswood, and we clearly missed the memo and brought our hair-trigger meltdown child mistakenly. I was painfully aware of how different she is while mixing with the other families in the park.

Part of me feels sad for her, because I don’t like to see her unhappy so often. She is a happy child – she can just go from happy to inconsolable faster than a method actor on speed. And I don’t want people to think of her as this screaming monster, which I worry is the image strangers take away after being near her. She is so much more than her tantrums.

And part of me, I’m ashamed to say, feels resentful. Resentful that I have such a difficult child while everyone else got the easy ones. Resentful that we can’t go anywhere and really have a great day, because there will always be at least one major meltdown to cloud the day. There will always be one point when Aaron will turn to me and ask, “Why did we think coming out here was a good idea?”

But then I feel guilty: Cordy doesn’t try to be difficult on purpose. She’s just a little kid! You’re an awful mother to resent your toddler for something she can’t control! She probably wants to fit in with other kids, but can’t. Bitterness to guilt to pity, then back to bitterness – it’s an awful cycle of emotions I’m trapped in. I don’t want to be here anymore.

Last week was a step forward. I’m feeling more at peace with the evaluation process and I’m eagerly awaiting the next step so we can get to work on helping Cordy cope with her issues and get past the frustration. Because instead of a face streaked with tears and scowling, this is the face I want to see more of: