Dub-ya

I use pseudonyms for my kids on this blog. It felt like the right thing to do, but sometimes I don't like it. You see, I love my kids' names.

Moe's real name starts with a W. He was named after my brother, William. We Jews generally don't name people after someone who is living, and usually do name our kids after someone who has died. Many choose to use the first letter of the name to honor the person. We thought about William but I just couldn't bring myself to call my child Bill or Billy, the names my brother went by. So we went with another W name. As it turns out, William seems to be popular again, though most Williams I've met seem to go by either Will or Liam.

I can't really argue with this.

We were thankful that our first child turned out to be a boy. The W names for girls were less appealing than the one we chose for Moe. I already have a cousin Wendy, and although Willa and Willow had potential, our last name is Bush. So Willow Bush was probably not the best option. (Some of my other favorite non-W girl names, like Rose, Olive and Lily were similarly off the table.)

Our last name has posed another challenge as well. In case you haven't pieced this together yet, my son is W Bush. Yes, like the former president. And I am, to put it gently, not a fan. I have one friend who likes to bring up the fact that my son is W Bush. But this friend moved to Texas, thereby waiving all his rights to tease me about the W.

Besides, Moe's middle name starts with the letter D.

For Democrat.

Queen Bee

The  phone buzzed and we flew to your side, in swarms of three and four until we completed our hive.

We flitted around you, busying ourselves with whatever work we could find.

Straightening sheets.

Talking to nurses.

Taking turns watching kids in the lobby.

"Isolate a honeybee from her sisters and she will soon die."

In a group whose constant buzzing often keeps us out too late, we had only a few words.

We're here.

We'll take care of your girls.

Goodbye.

We love you.

Goodbye.

This post was inspired by my visit to a friend who is losing her battle with cancer. During her fight, we have been wearing honeybee necklaces, and she took to calling our group "Heather's Hive."

The quote above is from the book The Queen Must Die: And Other Affairs of Bees and Men (Longgood) and was quoted in The Secret Life of Bees, by Sue Monk Kidd.

A Magnificent Flashback

Because the summer break is almost half way over...
And because the summer program at Moe's school finishes on Friday and I'm nervous about starting at a new place for the rest of the summer...
And because I had a post due today over at Hopeful Parents and I didn't have time to write another one...

For today's Alphabe-Thursday post, I'm going to recycle a post from the very beginning of this school year, Moe's first year in preschool. Click on over to read The Magnificent Mrs. M.

K is For: Are You Kidding Me?

 Moe was very tired last week. It seemed unusual but I just figured it was a combination of the very hot days and the change in routine with summer school. Even though the summer school day is earlier, any change (including a new teacher and new rules) can be a little stressful, and the longer afternoons mean we have been playing outside a lot, splashing in the wading pool, and trying to keep busy.

Still, Moe seemed a bit off. He hadn't been eating as much as he usually does, and without going into graphic details (your welcome), his diaper indicated perhaps a bit of a stomach ache. He was a little fussy over the weekend and at school on Monday, and his lunch box came back almost full. Moe puts everything in his mouth, tries to drink water out of the fountain in the backyard, and I was a little concerned he picked up something outside. But he didn't seem sick enough to have an infection, so we just carried on.

On Tuesday, Moe wasn't going to go to school and we were ready to go our penultimate meeting for the PRT research study up at Stanford. I had been stressed about this session because I didn't have childcare for Jelly, and had been juggling things around to make it work. But our new babysitter, who is starting with us next week, happened to be free that day. Moe actually ate a little breakfast, and was ready to go. Things were back on track.

The new babysitter arrived. She had met Jelly once before, but not Moe, who was sitting on the couch. She walked in the house, and just as I was saying "And this is Moe..." he threw up all over the couch.

All I could think was, "you have got to be kidding me."

Thankfully, the babysitter did not turn around and leave. She actually helped me with the cleanup and watched both kids while I rescheduled appointments, called the doctor, and ran to the grocery story for saltines and popsicles.

Moe seemed to be much better on Wednesday. We decided to go ahead with the speech evaluation we had scheduled with an SLP who specialized in augmentative communication. I already rescheduled this appointment once because Moe was sick, and wasn't going to wait another 2-3 months to get a new appointment. So we went...

Did Moe throw up all over this highly sought-after SLP?
Did I get the date of the appointment wrong?
Did Moe suddenly start talking on the way to the appointment?

Stay tuned to find out more!

 Don't forget there's still time to enter my book giveaway! Just comment on my post about The Anti-Romantic Child.

Joking Around

I don't know a lot of jokes, and when I try to tell one I usually end up either forgetting it or cracking myself up so much I can't get through the punchline. But I can be pretty goofy and have been known to, on occasion, deliver a great one-liner.

When Moe was diagnosed with autism, one of my biggest concerns was that he wouldn't understand me. Kids on the spectrum can be very literal and I am often sarcastic. I was concerned he wouldn't have a sense of humor, wouldn't "get" me. That he'd never lose himself so completely in laughter that he couldn't stop.

My most powerful memories are those times when I've lost myself in laughter: listening to my uncles tell stories around the Thanksgiving table; unable to catch my breath with my girlfriends, where each glance would cause a new wave of pee-in-your-pants hysteria; laughing with Jeff as we catch up in the evenings. Forget for a moment all my concerns about Moe's future independence, or friendships, or marriage. I wondered above all, would Moe have laughter?

While we're not exactly cracking jokes yet, I can definitely say Moe has laughter. Although he sometimes laughs a bit maniacally, with no apparent cause, other times his giggles are clearly genuine. He'll laugh at a certain song, or at an appropriate time in a book or TV show. He'll give you a mischievous smirk before doing something naughty. He, I believe, tries to be funny, and his laughter is the most beautiful sound on earth.

While it may be some time before we're messing up punchlines together, I'm certain Moe has a sense of humor. And since he's still in diapers, I don't even have to worry that he'll pee in his pants.

I is for Interaction

Even though I know Jelly is developing on track, I can't help but scrutinize her every move. I'm in awe of her growth but also waiting for the other shoe to drop. She's highly verbal and smart, she is always matching colors and lining things up, and she is starting to have trouble with transitions, like getting out of the car or ending an activity. She is so clearly not straight-up autism, but maybe she has Asperger's. The truth is, she just has "two-year old" but I can't help but look for signs that something is wrong. I've been burned before.

One of my concerns has been that she hasn't shown a lot of interest in other kids her age. When we go to playdates, she prefers to play alone or with me. Although she's playing completely appropriately, the other two year olds we know have older siblings to play with, and I can see the difference in their behavior. Of course, Jelly has Moe, but he is at school all day and doesn't pay much attention to her when he is at home.

But in the last week or so, something seems to have switched. Jelly started following some of the other kids in music class, imitating what they were doing and sometimes even being the leader. She's making more of an effort to interact with Moe, and will often run down the hall yelling "Moooooe, where aaaare you?" She'll find him and say "Oh. Hi. Good job guys. We did it!" (Those are things either I or Dora say, which of course leads me to wonder if she's using too much scripted language. Ugh.)

Moe doesn't interact with other kids at all (though he does engage with adults), and his social and play skills are, along with language, my biggest concern. Yesterday, we were outside and the kids were spending time in the wading pool (the best $10 I ever spent). Moe was sitting in the water and Jelly was filling her watering can and pouring it into the pool. Moe loves to put his hand under pouring water, so he noticed what Jelly was doing and put his hand in the stream. They repeated this at least five or six times. They weren't quite playing house, but it was interaction, and I was so proud of both of them!

Happy Hollow and other places we won't be going this summer

Tomorrow is Moe's last day of school. The teachers have been giddy with excitement. And much like last year, I'm wondering what the heck we're going to do all summer.

Moe will spend the first half of the summer in the district's extended school year (ESY) program. Although his teacher doesn't work summers, it is the same classroom and one of his current aids will be there as well. After the ESY program ends (I can't imagine how anyone thinks a four-week program is enough), Moe is going to attend a private autism preschool for the rest of the summer. Both classes end around noon.

Leaving me with long, hot summer afternoons to fill. The area we live in has wonderful activities for little kids. Happy Hollow Park and Zoo and the Children's Discovery Museum are all within ten minutes of our house. I can be at the beach in 45 minutes. Gilroy Gardens, an amusement park geared toward toddlers and preschoolers, is less than an hour away. We live near numerous parks with water features. There is a pool at the Y, and many beautiful swim clubs we could join.

Oh how I'd love to join a swim club. I'd relax by the pool while the kids splashed in the water with their friends.

Okay, okay. That last one is unrealistic for any parent with a two year old and a four year old. I got caught up in the dream for a moment.

The point is, I can't take both kids anywhere by myself, unless they are strapped into the stroller. Moe is just too much of a flight risk and Jelly couldn't keep up if he took off. I do have some babysitting help, but mostly to watch Jelly when I take Moe to therapy. Maybe I should have hired someone five afternoons a week. But that is expensive, and would seriously cut into my future swim club membership fees.

The good news is that we do have an enclosed backyard. We will be spending a lot of time out there. I got some sprinkler toys and will buy a little wading pool. We can take stroller walks around the neighborhood when it isn't too hot and air conditioning when it is. I'm fairly certain our house will be an enormous mess. But I guess it already is.

I will try to make the most of the summer, and like last year, we'll get through it. Maybe next summer, I'll be able to take the kids out myself. For now, there's only 74 days until school starts again.

Delivery Day

With mother's day still in my mind, and Moe's fourth birthday just a couple of weeks away, I thought I'd share the story of Moe's birth. It seems like a blogging rite of passage for us mother-bloggers, so for today's Alphabe-Thursday post, I'm going to write about Moe's Delivery Day.

On May 14, 2007, I was put on bed rest. My pregnancy up to that point was relatively easy. I had gestational diabetes, but controlled it with diet and exercise, and probably had a much healthier pregnancy because I had to watch my food intake so closely.

On that day, I had a doctor's appointment and an ultrasound that showed I had a low amniotic fluid level (oligohydramnios) . The levels were not dangerously low, but this can happen when the placenta becomes less efficient. I was put on bed rest. It wasn't strict, but I couldn't be on my feet for very long, which meant I couldn't exercise and couldn't work. I was six weeks from my due date.

Leaving work actually meant quitting two jobs. I was working as a Product Manager at a start-up, and was also serving on a grand jury (the judge did not let me delay jury duty even though my service was scheduled beyond my due date). So I cleaned out my desk, emailed  the DA, and planned to spend the next six weeks pondering baby names.

But on May 31, the level had dropped again, and my doctor calmly told us to go to the hospital. I would be induced. I asked if I could go home first and get some things; she said no. I called my parents in LA, and Jeff and I went to the hospital, where the nurses were expecting us. Soon I was hooked up to the contraction and heart monitors and was put on a Pitocin drip.

Long before this day, there was never any doubt in my mind that I would get an epidural. Once on the Pitocin drip I had strong contractions right away, but for some reason I told Jeff I wanted to wait to get the epidural. After probably 3 strong contractions, he had seen enough and pres the nurse button himself. I didn't object.

Unfortunately, Moe wasn't tolerating labor. Every time I had a contraction, his heart rate would drop. The contraction would stop and his heart rate would return to normal. We spent a couple very stressful hours watching those monitors. The nurses stopped the Pitocin. Moe did better but labor stopped.

Time passed.

When my doctor came on call that evening, she said she thought we should do a c-section.  Minutes later, there was a flurry of activity. A nurse was in to prep me, Jeff put on scrubs, and we headed to the OR. Moe was born within minutes. He was healthy and weighed about 6.5 lbs.

I saw Moe for a minute or two before they took him to the nursery. At some point we took a picture. Jeff stayed with me while they took Moe to the nursery. I was have a very uncomfortable reaction to the anesthesia, shaking terribly, and was kind of freaked out. And although it only took a few minutes to get Moe out, it took about 25 minutes to sew everything back up.

The whole thing felt surreal. The anesthesiologist and intern were having some kind of strange conversation, and my doctor and assistant were counting out loud. I felt like I was in a David Lynch movie. I later learned that they count to make sure they have all the sponges and things out of you. In my head, I kept chanting a mantra to keep calm. For some reason, mine was "no pain, no gain," like I was training for a triathlon or something.

Once in recovery, I was starting to panic about not being able to move my legs. Just then, my parents showed up, straight from the airport. My dad promised me that the anesthesia was wearing off, and reported that I could already move my toes. They all took turns seeing the baby in the nursery and eventually we made it to my room in maternity.

And then the real fun began.

Could be a movie poster for the next David Lynch film.

Could We?

We went to an open house last weekend. It's in the neighborhood we want to live in, just blocks from the house we used to rent. It's an historic home, completely renovated. The master suite has a sitting room almost as big as our current bedroom. The upstairs bathroom has a claw-foot tub. And the kitchen looks like this:

It is our dream house. One I can picture growing old in, hosting book clubs and birthday parties and thanksgiving dinners. Figuring out ways to keep our teenage daughter from sneaking out of the upstairs balcony. The yard is lovely.

But the dream house is not in our current school district. If we bought this house, we would have to change Moe to a new school, something we said we absolutely would not do until he was ready for kindergarten and would leave his current program anyway.

But this house. Just look at this bathroom.

So we asked ourselves, could we? Could we take Moe out of the school with the teachers we love so much? The other school district is good, arguably better, at least for general education. Who's to say the new program wouldn't be even better than the one we lucked into here? So we're researching. Asking around. Thinking about it.

The truth is, we can't afford this house. But if the stars aligned just right, and the sellers lowered their asking price and we stretched a little, maybe we could. But probably not. But you never know. For now, we're just watching and waiting, hoping and dreaming, and asking ourselves: could we?

This post written as part of Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday. Today we are on the letter C, which in this post could stand for "Could we?" or my alternate title, "Chef's Kitchen."