That second child

Thank goodness he didn't let his urine-soaked pants wake him up.

This is his signature expression after taking off his glasses

 I sure do love the feeling of hearing my alarm go off and actually waking up in my own bed.  It rarely happens but one morning it did.  Brian got up and went to work, Cameron was in his own bed snoring away, and it was pretty quiet in Jack's room.  Too quiet.  I turned on the hall light and...NO JACK!  What the hell?  My life is now a Lifetime movie.  He's been kidnapped and we just slept through the whole damn thing.  I went check in the bathroom, in Cameron's room, in the kitchen, in the living room.  Could not find the kid.  Then I went back to check in his room again and almost stepped on the child.  (Top picture)  He crawled out of his bed and made it to the living room where he proceeded to piss all over my rug and settle in for a snooze.  The kid was practically camouflaged.  The saddest part is that I was ever so thankful he found a place to sleep instead of waking me up.  Usually he hits up the club (my bedroom) at about 1:45 looking for his mom to come keep him company while he chats it up.

He is quite the little sneak.  I love that he has Cameron to play with, but I don't love that he uses me to get his way.  Cameron had a bag of chips for snack, and even though Jack mowed through two lunches and a snack he couldn't help but salivate at that yellow bag of greasy goodness.  He approached Cameron and just stood there until Cameron looked away and then he hand started toward the bag.  Cameron took off around the coffee table and Jack chased him.  This continued until Jack came over to me, grabbed my arm and pulled me toward Cameron.  Yes, he gets his momma to fight his battles for him.  I reached in Cameron's bag pulled out a few chips and then gave them to Jack.  Stealing from one child to give to another.  The ultimate betrayal.  Commence meltdown.

Cameron's progress

 

I can't believe the progress this kid has made.  We finally got him to say his name and birthday at 33 months.  Whew!  For about a month or so he would say it when we pointed to it written on his picture book, but it wouldn't translate for him as far as answering the question, "What's your name?"  He's starting a mother's day out program in August so we want him to at least be able to introduce himself since the rest of communication will be a bit shaky.

 

  Here's a diet for you...eat with my son.  In this picture, he's eating a bagel dipped in ketchup.  It was enough to ruin both Jack and I's breakfast.  Occupational Therapy is going okay.  I say "okay" because I love the therapist and I think she's awesome with Cameron, but I think he just has more going on than we can figure out.  Because of his regression in eating, we were referred to a Pediatric Development Specialist.  I had to complete a 20 page packet as a pre-screen.  They wouldn't even schedule an appointment if there weren't enough indicators warranting it.  We got their first available appointment...in AUGUST.  At least we aren't alone, right?  

As far as we (the therapist, pediatrician, and I) can tell, he has some behavioral, some sensory and some control issues.  Here's what I call an issue:  On Thursday during Occupational Therapy, we sat down to eat snack.  I wanted Nicole to help me with tips for his overstuffing food into his mouth so I served the Handi Snacks breadsticks.  So he starts shouting, "Hold it! Hold it!  I hold it!" (control issue)  As fast as Nicole opened it to take the breadsticks out, he grabbed one and shoved the entire thing in his mouth horizontally.  She took the rest of the pack and broke all the breaksticks in half and gave him back the pack.  He took one look at the broken breadsticks and lost it.  Here's what "losing it" looks like for us.  He slams his forehead against the table.  Throws himself off his chair landing on the ceramic tile and then repeatedly bangs his head against the floor.  The OT just looks at me and says, "What do you usually do?  Does it work if you ignore it?"  I just looked at her and said, "He will continue to bang his head against the floor until he busts his lip, his nose bleeds or his head is severely bruised.  Would you ignore that?"  So I picked him up and he realized that he hadn't registered enough pain sensation so he started trying to head butt me.  I managed to calm him down, but at that point he wanted nothing to do with the therapist.  He refused to go anywhere near her, wouldn't touch her iPad or phone, wouldn't play with beans or play-doh.  Nothing.  In his eyes, she became a bad person because she ruined the one thing he likes to eat.  (Any takers for a baby-sitter at this point???)  So this is what we deal with all day long, everyday.  Avoiding and containing the meltdown.  As a matter of fact, he hasn't wanted breadsticks since that occasion.  I guess it's because he's worried we may break them.  I hope August will bring us some answers, but until that time we will only be serving bite size portions of everything.  It's like a wedding reception at my house, which isn't so bad.  Entertainment is provided. 

February pictures

Hmm...I don't know if this is dirt or Oreo on his mouth.

Cameron hanging around.

Teaching Jack "touchdown" because speech therapy has taught me to focus on the important things.

Jack at 16 months.  When Cameron was 15 months, I had him.  Holy moly.

The world's messiest eater.  Has to be.  He knows the dirtier he gets at dinner, the quicker he gets to be in the tub.

Brotherly love

Laundry day always ends up with someone getting hurt.  Both were trying to get a ride around the house in the basket.  60 pounds is a bit much to push around.

The little turd on the right surprised the hell out of me and climbed up the playhouse ladder all by himself.  I'm not too happy about that one.

Finally!!!  I taught him how to swing his brother.  

Elmo Can't Stop Singing

On the way to Elmo

We had time to kill before so we took the boys to Toys R Us.  I let Cameron ride a bike around the store. At least he insisted on wearing a helmet.

Lights and music and the kid was put into a trance.

Jack in the kid's play zone before the show.  He had no concept of lines so I just let him cut in front of everyone and do his thing.

The $15 twirling light that is the reason we even made it to the opening number.

Great seats!  Jack got to shake the Count's hand and Cameron shook Rosita's hand.

The day after

Elmo came to town, and we decided to take both the kids.  We must have been drinking when I bought the tickets is all I can figure.  Cameron loves to sing and dance, but both of those things don't really require sitting still.  Jack can watch a full length movie without taking his eyes off the TV, but he hates loud noises and too much commotion (explains why he and brother Cameron fight). 

Of course when you arrive at these shows, they have you (pardon the expression) by the balls.  You have to walk a minimum half mile before you can enter the arena.  Every ten feet along the way is a kiosk with enough light up, glowing, spinning strobe lights to test whether you or your child is epileptic.  If not, you are lured into buying said toy to shut the little one up.  Ah, but the marketing geniuses thought ahead of us, each kiosk will have a different toy, shirt, doll and assorted sugary snack.  Just when you thought one $15 battery powered twirling Elmo was going to be your savior for intermission there pops up a cookie monster light saber to lock in every little boy's eyes.  I will blindfold my children for the future. 

Ten minutes until the show starts.  Cameron sees not one but two stages that are apparently calling out to him to take the floor.  Jack sees a whole lot of floor space and stairs to climb.  Cameron is distracted by the Elmo twirly thing and Jack cannot help but try to make an escape.  The kid hadn't got but maybe five steps into the main aisle and here comes an usher.  "Ma'am, you need to make your way back to your seat."  Oh good, there must be a day care she's bringing Jack to.  No such luck.  I scoop him up and proceed to bounce him on my knees for the next 12 minutes.  I was pretty confident he would throw up, but he has a stronger stomach than anticipated.  The lights dim, the music blares, and the characters start their singing and dancing.  For the next thirty minutes, my kids cannot take their eyes off the stage much less wiggle in their seats. 

Looking around you see the craziest things...like the family in the front row who has Baby Brees headphones on their kids.  Really?  You paid for the tickets and selected the seats.  Also, this is not a monster truck show.  The volume was about my "I'm almost going to lose it and scream at you voice."  As the characters danced down the aisle, I was amazed at how many people actually threw their kids at the characters.  Really?  Did you think Zoey would be a better option at parenting?  Did you expect Bert to loving whisk your child on stage making him the "next big thing?"  People, those costumes are filled with sweat, piss and germs and the actors inside have a peep hole the size of a quarter to see where they are going.   

After they announced a 15 minute intermission, a guy walks out holding - I kid you not - 100 Elmo balloons.  I don't know for sure that his feet where even touching the ground at that point.  A couple of pounds less and he would have been in the rafters.  Anyway at intermission I was looking to pay somebody to shorten it to 3 minutes, but we survived.  The kids made it to the end and seemed to have a great time.