Saturday, July 9, 2011
Speech Therapy
You know those children you can hear halfway across the grocery store screaming like a spoiled little brat, making you wonder what on earth their mother was thinking letting their child get away with despicable behavior like that? Yeah, that's me. And Cody's that unbelievingly shrill child. Almost every time we're out. And then all the time at home. We've been going through a frustrating year or so of trying to get him to pick up some words, just a few at the very least. But, despite our daily efforts, he's still pretty much wordless. In between his grunts and screams is mixed in some word-like sounds to attempt to say "mama," "no" and "dada." And he can roar like one crazy dinosaur. But that's it. And he'll be two next week. So this past week we paid a long-awaited visit (four months, to be exact) to the speech therapist. It was therapy for me to have someone listen to my frustrations, release me of my deep motherly guilt and observe my child for over an hour. There's not a whole lot we can do for him at this point, but she did give me some suggestions as to how to encourage his speech and, in the meantime, to teach him a little more sign language to encourage proper communication versus simply screaming to get what he wants. I love my little Codes, and it breaks my heart to see him so frustrated when he can't communicate. As a mom, I just want to see him happy and doing as well as he possibly can. So I hope these exercises work - and quickly - so we can start to hear about everything going on in that brain of his!
Sunday, May 29, 2011
All Stitched Up
I'm not a morning person; I don't function normally until close to 10am every day. So after I get everybody out of bed, dressed and fed, I like to take in my morning coffee in quiet to adjust to the idea of being awake. And so the boys watch a TV show or two along with some apple slices. It's our morning routine and I love it! TV time equals calm, quiet down-time... right? Wrong.
Nate likes to swing by his arms between the two couches in our living room while he watches TV (I guess sitting on the couch is just too darn relaxing). I always caution him to be careful when he does this, but it doesn't ever look too dangerous. His feet are just a couple inches off the ground and his swinging motion is small, and I'm pretty sure I did the same kind of thing when I was younger for fun and never got hurt. But this time his arms must've slipped off the couch arms mid-swing, because his forehead hit the corner of the coffee table, and he was down on the floor crying out in pain. The gash was so deep, I could see where his flesh met his skull. I knew right away he'd need stitches and ran around the house grabbing a cloth to put pressure on the gash, snacks for all of us should we get sent to the ER, and the diaper bag since it was a weekday and I was on my own with both boys. We went to the closest walk-in clinic where the nurse paid great attention to us and bumped us up to the front of the list in a full waiting room. Thankfully the bleeding stopped by the time we got there, and while Nate was definitely in pain and seemed anxious about what would happen next in that dreaded doctor's office, he was playing a little with Cody and being his silly little self. The doctor had to give an injection into the wound to freeze it, and then proceeded to put in three stitches. I had been fine up until the needle was placed into Nate's face... But then the room started to spin and I felt very shaky and about to faint. I felt awful about abandoning Nate right in the middle of getting his very first stitches ever but I knew if I didn't sit down and eat the energy bar I had brought along, I'd be passed out on the floor completely useless. So three times during Nate's stitches I had to sit down and take a few moments to gather myself. Nate screamed through every stitch - and the nurse popped her head in every time to make sure we were okay - but not once did he squirm away or try to avoid getting the stitches. He was incredibly brave, braver than his mama. So I made sure to make up for this horrible experience for the rest of the day, with a slurpee stop, lunch in front of the TV, and building a tent in his room to play in. I hope he learned his lesson - never ever let your feet leave the ground ever again.
Nate likes to swing by his arms between the two couches in our living room while he watches TV (I guess sitting on the couch is just too darn relaxing). I always caution him to be careful when he does this, but it doesn't ever look too dangerous. His feet are just a couple inches off the ground and his swinging motion is small, and I'm pretty sure I did the same kind of thing when I was younger for fun and never got hurt. But this time his arms must've slipped off the couch arms mid-swing, because his forehead hit the corner of the coffee table, and he was down on the floor crying out in pain. The gash was so deep, I could see where his flesh met his skull. I knew right away he'd need stitches and ran around the house grabbing a cloth to put pressure on the gash, snacks for all of us should we get sent to the ER, and the diaper bag since it was a weekday and I was on my own with both boys. We went to the closest walk-in clinic where the nurse paid great attention to us and bumped us up to the front of the list in a full waiting room. Thankfully the bleeding stopped by the time we got there, and while Nate was definitely in pain and seemed anxious about what would happen next in that dreaded doctor's office, he was playing a little with Cody and being his silly little self. The doctor had to give an injection into the wound to freeze it, and then proceeded to put in three stitches. I had been fine up until the needle was placed into Nate's face... But then the room started to spin and I felt very shaky and about to faint. I felt awful about abandoning Nate right in the middle of getting his very first stitches ever but I knew if I didn't sit down and eat the energy bar I had brought along, I'd be passed out on the floor completely useless. So three times during Nate's stitches I had to sit down and take a few moments to gather myself. Nate screamed through every stitch - and the nurse popped her head in every time to make sure we were okay - but not once did he squirm away or try to avoid getting the stitches. He was incredibly brave, braver than his mama. So I made sure to make up for this horrible experience for the rest of the day, with a slurpee stop, lunch in front of the TV, and building a tent in his room to play in. I hope he learned his lesson - never ever let your feet leave the ground ever again.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Officially a Preschooler
I registered Nate for preschool this past Sunday. After several months of mulling it over (and missing out on many registration opportunities at various preschools) I decided on putting him in the 2-day-a-week preschool at our local rec centre. I had actually heard great things about the program and after putting him in a Saturday morning sports program at the same place, I felt comfortable with the idea of sending him there twice a week come the fall.
Of course, registration happened to fall on the one weekend Monte was away, and I didn't feel I could ask anyone to watch the boys since most people would be planning to go to church (who registers for preschool on a Sunday, by the way?). So I was plotting away at how to keep both boys content during registration which I expected to be long and boring. Thankfully Monte's parents offered to stay home from church to watch the boys and I was able to go by myself. However, on my way to dropping off the boys across town I recognized a mom of a boy close to Nate's age from the park the previous day, driving in the opposite direction. I panicked, thinking the only place she'd be going so early on a Sunday by herself is to register at the rec centre... And if she's going early to register, so would many other moms. I had heard several stories of mothers lining up for hours - sometimes overnight - to get their kids into a certain preschool. Suddenly I wondered if this registration experience would turn out the same way and I nervously booked it to my in-laws, booted the boys out of the van and raced over to the rec centre, short of breath at the reception desk asking where the long line-up of mothers were for registration only to find out that no one had shown up yet. I sat and waited by myself for over a half hour, and even then when it officially started there were only a handful of other parents there. But in my haste I forgot my cheques, and of course my debit card expired that very day... So I held Nate's spot with my credit card and raced home to get my cheques to pre-pay for the year. It was a stressful morning! And the worst part was that it was stressful only because I made it that way. Sadly, that's the epitomy of me: always turning molehills into mountains and stressing unecessarily about it!
Of course, registration happened to fall on the one weekend Monte was away, and I didn't feel I could ask anyone to watch the boys since most people would be planning to go to church (who registers for preschool on a Sunday, by the way?). So I was plotting away at how to keep both boys content during registration which I expected to be long and boring. Thankfully Monte's parents offered to stay home from church to watch the boys and I was able to go by myself. However, on my way to dropping off the boys across town I recognized a mom of a boy close to Nate's age from the park the previous day, driving in the opposite direction. I panicked, thinking the only place she'd be going so early on a Sunday by herself is to register at the rec centre... And if she's going early to register, so would many other moms. I had heard several stories of mothers lining up for hours - sometimes overnight - to get their kids into a certain preschool. Suddenly I wondered if this registration experience would turn out the same way and I nervously booked it to my in-laws, booted the boys out of the van and raced over to the rec centre, short of breath at the reception desk asking where the long line-up of mothers were for registration only to find out that no one had shown up yet. I sat and waited by myself for over a half hour, and even then when it officially started there were only a handful of other parents there. But in my haste I forgot my cheques, and of course my debit card expired that very day... So I held Nate's spot with my credit card and raced home to get my cheques to pre-pay for the year. It was a stressful morning! And the worst part was that it was stressful only because I made it that way. Sadly, that's the epitomy of me: always turning molehills into mountains and stressing unecessarily about it!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
With These Hands
I meet with a couple of friends once a month to pray for our kids. We share about our triumphs and trials as mothers, support each other in prayer and work through the prayers offered in Stormie Omartian's book "The Power of a Praying Parent." We met last Monday, and since I was feeling quite discouraged in my role as a mom, I spent a good portion of the night unloading onto my unsuspecting friends! It was good to talk to other mothers who I quickly realized have gone through the same things I've been experiencing. And it was great to be able to pray about it with others. I'm a verbal processor, so it's amazing how much smaller my problems seem as soon as I talk about them and feel validated.
On my way home, however, I was listening to praise 106.5. A Family Life program was on, discussing preparing your teen for post-graduation life. I'm really good at tuning out talk radio, especially when it has nothing to do with my own life. But they began to read a poem that caught my attention. It made me realize just how fleeting my moments are with my kids here at home. I know in the blink of an eye I'll be at Nate's graduation, or sending Cody off to college and my heart will ache, wanting to hold them on my lap for bedtime snuggles just one last time. While my days seem long and mundane as a stay at home mom right now, it's only for a brief time and I know I'll never be able to get this time back. So here's that poem that brought tears to my eyes. I'd give credit to whoever wrote it, but they didn't say... It was the youth pastor at their church, at a service centered around sending off their high school grads.
WITH THESE HANDS
With these hands, I gently cradled this child;
Held him close to my heart,
Nursed his wounds and calmed her fears,
Held the books that I would read
And rock this child fast asleep.
With these hands, I made his lunches
And drove the car that carried her to school;
Snapped endless pictures, wrapped countless gifts,
Then did my best to assemble those gifts.
Combed his hair and wiped her tear,
Let her know that I was near
To nurse his wounds and heal her heart
When it would break.
With these hands, I made mistakes,
And with these hands I prayed and prayed and prayed.
These hands are feeble, these hands are worn,
These hands can no longer calm the storms;
These hands have done all they can do;
These hands now release this child, my child
To You.
For Your hands are able,
Your hands are strong,
Your hands alone can calm the storms.
Your hands will continue to do
What they are so gifted to do,
To shape his life and make her new,
Into Your hand receive this child,
For my child I now give back to You.
In the strong name of Jesus,
And with all my heart I pray,
Amen.
On my way home, however, I was listening to praise 106.5. A Family Life program was on, discussing preparing your teen for post-graduation life. I'm really good at tuning out talk radio, especially when it has nothing to do with my own life. But they began to read a poem that caught my attention. It made me realize just how fleeting my moments are with my kids here at home. I know in the blink of an eye I'll be at Nate's graduation, or sending Cody off to college and my heart will ache, wanting to hold them on my lap for bedtime snuggles just one last time. While my days seem long and mundane as a stay at home mom right now, it's only for a brief time and I know I'll never be able to get this time back. So here's that poem that brought tears to my eyes. I'd give credit to whoever wrote it, but they didn't say... It was the youth pastor at their church, at a service centered around sending off their high school grads.
WITH THESE HANDS
With these hands, I gently cradled this child;
Held him close to my heart,
Nursed his wounds and calmed her fears,
Held the books that I would read
And rock this child fast asleep.
With these hands, I made his lunches
And drove the car that carried her to school;
Snapped endless pictures, wrapped countless gifts,
Then did my best to assemble those gifts.
Combed his hair and wiped her tear,
Let her know that I was near
To nurse his wounds and heal her heart
When it would break.
With these hands, I made mistakes,
And with these hands I prayed and prayed and prayed.
These hands are feeble, these hands are worn,
These hands can no longer calm the storms;
These hands have done all they can do;
These hands now release this child, my child
To You.
For Your hands are able,
Your hands are strong,
Your hands alone can calm the storms.
Your hands will continue to do
What they are so gifted to do,
To shape his life and make her new,
Into Your hand receive this child,
For my child I now give back to You.
In the strong name of Jesus,
And with all my heart I pray,
Amen.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Paska
Nope, it's not a typo. I'm not blogging about pasta. It's paska - one of our family's favourite Easter treats! I waited ever so patiently until April to whip out my recipe, and now I've got a batch whirring in my bread machine. It's an Easter tradition that you don't often hear about until you become familiar with the mennonite community. I'm mennonite only by marriage, so this tradition is fairly new to me. But sweet bread with icing and sprinkles? Sign me up! Here's the recipe I use every spring to celebrate one of the best holidays of the year. Beware: it's for a bread machine and the first time I tried it as a loaf baked right in the machine, it overflowed - big time. It didn't wreck my bread-maker, but the loaf was not pretty! So now I just make it on the dough setting and bake it up however I want in the oven, as directed by my bread machine manual. I've done one giant french-bread-looking loaf, several mini-loaves, and today I'm going to try making paska buns (more icing per square inch of bread!).
Bread Machine Paska
1 c warm water
2 large eggs
3 tbsp sugar
1 1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp vanilla
3 tbsp butter or margarine
2 tbsp grated lemon rind
4 c all-purpose flour
2 tsp bread machine yeast
Put ingredients into the bread machine in the order listed above; follow your bread machine's directions for making bread, or set the machine on the dough setting and bake the bread the oven. Makes a 2 pound loaf.
ICING: Cream 3 tbsp butter/margarine, then add 2 cups icing sugar, 1 tsp vanilla and 2-3 tbsp milk and mix well. Spread over loaf and top with holiday sprinkles!
Bread Machine Paska
1 c warm water
2 large eggs
3 tbsp sugar
1 1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp vanilla
3 tbsp butter or margarine
2 tbsp grated lemon rind
4 c all-purpose flour
2 tsp bread machine yeast
Put ingredients into the bread machine in the order listed above; follow your bread machine's directions for making bread, or set the machine on the dough setting and bake the bread the oven. Makes a 2 pound loaf.
ICING: Cream 3 tbsp butter/margarine, then add 2 cups icing sugar, 1 tsp vanilla and 2-3 tbsp milk and mix well. Spread over loaf and top with holiday sprinkles!
Monday, April 4, 2011
Vintage Love
It all started with a rocking chair - one my parents had from before I can remember. It had seen better days and was being stored in their garage. With Nate brewing in my belly, I figured it would be a great addition to his room. Monte sanded down the chair and painted it white, while I put my finishing touches on it with a little sandpaper around the edges to give it a distressed look. And I was hooked. I loved the look of something that appeared "gently loved" and one of a kind. It adds to our home that country/shabby-chic look that I seem to be drawn to. So whenever the need came up for a piece of furniture, I'd spend weeks scouring local thrift stores in search of the perfect piece. I've refinished a dresser, a desk and a stand for our TV, and I've got a beautiful 1920's hutch waiting for a facelift in my garage, as well as our "new" kitchen table with four mismatched wooden chairs I'm in the middle of painting. I love shopping for vintage furniture, looking for a great deal and visualizing the potential in various pieces. I have to exercise some restraint to only pick up the pieces I actually need! Now if only I remembered to take before and after pictures... Maybe for my next project.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Cody's First Hospital Stay
The boys and I were playing outside on Friday, taking advantage of the rare lack of rain. I was killing two birds with one stone by throwing the ball around for the dog as well - getting everyone some fresh air and exercise. Bailey got a little too excited and rammed into Cody, knocking him to the ground, the back of his head hitting the pavement first. It was by far the worst accident he'd been in, and I felt horrible for him. We took him to the walk-in clinic just to check things out, and was sent back home with little to worry about. Later that day we were at my parent's place for dinner with my older sister and her family. The kids wanted to play outside and so we all went out to play in the driveway. Cody was keeping busy, chasing balls that were flying around and trying to be a part of the excitement. He tripped over a baseball glove and fell to the ground, hitting his forehead on the pavement. It didn't seem to be that bad of an inury, so we put him to bed and didn't think anything of it. Later on the drive home, he started throwing up and we suddenly felt alarmed, with two injuries to the head in one day. It was 11pm and we had Nate in the car with us, but decided to head straight for the hospital and arranged for Monte's parents to meet us there and take Nate to their place for the night.
After hours of waiting with an overtired, puke-covered toddler, telling the same story over and over and over again to various hospital staff, we were admitted into the pediatric ward around 3am. There was only a single cot in the room shared with another patient, so Monte went home to catch a few hours of sleep while I attempted to get Cody acclimated to his new bed which did not go over well. I got no sleep that night, and Cody slept maybe 6 of the 12-13 hrs he normally gets. We were a miserable pair! Monte relieved me of hospital duty in the morning. After meeting with the pediatrician, who was certain Cody only had a couple minor concussions instead of a skull fracture as diagnosed by the first doctor who saw him, I went home for a much-needed nap and shower. Cody continued to throw up anything he took in, and had a tough time getting any sleep with all the noises around him (whoever thought that room-sharing in peds was a good idea was terribly wrong). We were told that if he continued to get sick to his stomach or if any other symptoms got worse, we would have to proceed with a CT scan which apparently is the radiation equivalent of 250 x-rays - not something we wanted to subject our child to! So we got in touch with many of our friends and family and got praying... and our little guy began to keep down food and water, was able to sleep better and just began to act more like himself. And by the next morning he was downing corn flakes like crazy, feeding me, making faces, and waving to all the cars outside our window. The pediatrician saw him again and gave us the green light to go home, but Cody would have to wear a helmet whenever he's on the go just to be safe, for a month. He's going to hate it!
We felt so supported by our friends and family, especially to those who gave their time to help take care of Nate (who was spoiled the entire time... we were certain the mini-golfing, milkshakes, playground trips and fast food meals would make him wish we stayed at the hospital longer!). We fully felt the affects of those praying for us; I believe Cody got better as fast as he did because of so many people keeping him in their prayers. It was one of the longest weekends of my life, but there were some special moments throughout that made it seem more bearable. My favourite moment was when I was laying on a couch in one of the family rooms, just exhausted, and Cody walked over to me (soother in mouth, blankie in hand) and started rubbing my back. So sweet!
After hours of waiting with an overtired, puke-covered toddler, telling the same story over and over and over again to various hospital staff, we were admitted into the pediatric ward around 3am. There was only a single cot in the room shared with another patient, so Monte went home to catch a few hours of sleep while I attempted to get Cody acclimated to his new bed which did not go over well. I got no sleep that night, and Cody slept maybe 6 of the 12-13 hrs he normally gets. We were a miserable pair! Monte relieved me of hospital duty in the morning. After meeting with the pediatrician, who was certain Cody only had a couple minor concussions instead of a skull fracture as diagnosed by the first doctor who saw him, I went home for a much-needed nap and shower. Cody continued to throw up anything he took in, and had a tough time getting any sleep with all the noises around him (whoever thought that room-sharing in peds was a good idea was terribly wrong). We were told that if he continued to get sick to his stomach or if any other symptoms got worse, we would have to proceed with a CT scan which apparently is the radiation equivalent of 250 x-rays - not something we wanted to subject our child to! So we got in touch with many of our friends and family and got praying... and our little guy began to keep down food and water, was able to sleep better and just began to act more like himself. And by the next morning he was downing corn flakes like crazy, feeding me, making faces, and waving to all the cars outside our window. The pediatrician saw him again and gave us the green light to go home, but Cody would have to wear a helmet whenever he's on the go just to be safe, for a month. He's going to hate it!
We felt so supported by our friends and family, especially to those who gave their time to help take care of Nate (who was spoiled the entire time... we were certain the mini-golfing, milkshakes, playground trips and fast food meals would make him wish we stayed at the hospital longer!). We fully felt the affects of those praying for us; I believe Cody got better as fast as he did because of so many people keeping him in their prayers. It was one of the longest weekends of my life, but there were some special moments throughout that made it seem more bearable. My favourite moment was when I was laying on a couch in one of the family rooms, just exhausted, and Cody walked over to me (soother in mouth, blankie in hand) and started rubbing my back. So sweet!
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