Erma Bombeck is Smiling Down at Me from Heaven

Thought you might like to enjoy a laugh at my expense...

Bear slept unusually late Friday morning. As I enjoyed brushing my teeth sans the soundtrack of a child screaming to be released from a plush nursery bigger than my first apartment, I was already thinking I should have gotten up a little earlier to enjoy a shower by myself.

Because I had to attend a business meeting at noon. One that's already been rescheduled 4 times.

Typical game plan for showering without Husband to run Bear interference is to gather his bath stuff together and let him play in the water when I'm done. He usually plays in the tub the entire time I'm getting ready.

I open the shower curtain to discover that Bear had been playing on the tile floor with the water glasses (actual GLASS glasses) his parents had been too tired (read "too sick and spaced out on narcotic cough syrup") to put out of his reach before going to bed. And that Kona - who had already been out at least six times - had peed all over the bathroom floor. And that Bear had abandoned his attempt to shatter the water glasses in favor of splashing in the giant puddle of urine.

I could tell where Kona had wandered because Sable was gleefully running around the bedroom sniffing his footprints.

I piled on some towels and stripped Bear down to get him in the tub. At which point I discovered he had a poopy diaper. So - still naked and dripping wet - I scoop up the Bear with one hand, hold the diaper closed with the other hand, and rush him to his changing table in search of wipes.

It's worth noting at this point I'm on my period and - because I've only been to the store 3 times in the last week - had run out of tampons. So as I was running naked down the hall holding a half naked baby I was also hoping there wasn't blood running down my leg.

There were10 people coming Saturday to process 100 pounds of apples and I'd been sick for a week and the toilet's growing mold and the carpets were a lovely shade of German Shepherd.

So what I'm saying is, I hadn't had time to run downstairs to steal the last box of tampons from the extra bathroom so I certainly didn't have time to clean blood off the carpet.

I took him back in the bathroom and he saw my toothbrush, at which point he decided he had to brush his teeth again or the world would end. So I gave him his toothbrush and went into the closet to grab some underwear.

When I came out he was missing. I went looking for him and found him coming back upstairs - naked, and with toothbrush still in hand. He got to the top, pointed back down and said "uh-oh." Translation: I peed down there somewhere. Good luck finding it.

Then, while Bear played in the tub I desperately tried to get my hair under control. I got it cut by a new stylist Thursday. One whose name I'd be hard pressed to tell you. Because my regular stylist had to have emergency surgery and my other regular stylist was too booked taking appointments canceled by the other stylist. And I was a few months overdue for a cut and had already been forced to reschedule 3 times.

What I learned is, you have to be very specific about what you mean by "structure" when describing the cut you want to a new stylist. She gave me so much structure the Empire State Building is jealous. I've got more layers than an onion. Problem is, it's one of those cuts that requires a trained stylist and specialized equipment to style. Training and equipment I lack. It looked GREAT coming out of the salon. But when I tried to do it, I got something more along the lines of Holly Hunter meets the Shaggy DA circa 1987.

So as I'm trying not to have a hair meltdown the Bear climbed out of the tub and wraps his dripping wet body around my legs. The legs clad in brand new, just got 'em back from the tailor dress pants. So it's on to Plan B - the jeans I wore yesterday.

He goes back in the tub. I go back to my hair. In the mirror I see a naked toddler streak behind me into the closet and slam the door. I followed him immediately, but was too late. I found him hiding in the back corner of my closet under my dresses, gleefully playing with his own personal fountain of urine.

I got him cleaned up and dressed. I got my portfolio for the meeting. He hid under my desk.

I went back to finish my makeup. He wandered off with the toothpaste and toothbrush. I decided I didn't care.

When it was time to leave I found him hiding in the dog crate, sucking on the toothpaste, showing the dog the cartoon train on his toothbrush and excitedly explaining that trains say "Woo Woo!"

I may or may not have left a pile of urine soaked towels on my bathroom floor. But I made it to my meeting on time, so we're putting this one in the Win column.

Post Script... after all that, my meeting stood me up. I decided it was a sign I deserved a nice quiet lunch by myself.

Silver Linings

Schedules are about to get awfully complex around here because Bear has been referred for Speech Therapy due to a "significant" speech delay. Because he's about to turn 2 and - aside from "uh-oh" - is essentially nonverbal. (He doesn't even call me Mommy, people. It's HARD. To have a kid. Who screams all the time. And can't even say Mommy.) Based on his behavior issues he's also being evaluated by 3 other specialists. They suspect possible sensory integration disorder along with a sub-niche of that called self-regulatory disorder. The 4 specialists will be spending several hours with him next week to work out which of them he needs and to develop a treatment plan. At which point my life becomes about therapy appointments.

But on the bright side... my Bear will get what he needs so he can be happy and healthy and theoretically resolve all these issues before they can impact his education. And so he can call me Mommy.

Bear is sick. Again. As am I. And Wonderful Husband just came down with it today. Just the nature of flu season and having a child in daycare.

But on the bright side... I'm sick late enough I've got the Halloween event prep handled and early enough I've got time to recover before the events (personal and professional) I'm hosting. And work is really light right now, so keeping Bear home from school isn't hurting my business.

With everything going on I think I've worked out once in the last 2 months.

But on the bright side, my plantar fasciitis seems to appreciate the break and is gradually improving. Some days I don't even limp.

My beloved Kramer was missing for a week and returned unscathed, but it's still costing a small fortune in vet bills to recheck his blood and get his meds back on track.

But on the bright side... since his little adventure he's redefined what's scary, and no longer cowers in the basement all the time. Now he just tells Kona to back off so he can get all the love he needs.

I'm miserably sick with what I think is the flu.

But on the bright side... I'm losing a little more weight because I'm the kinds of sick that makes food totally unappealing.


Life was good before this temporary trip to crapsville, and it will be good again. I just have to put my head down and work through it.

Apple picking on a perfect September afternoon.

Baby Bear Brick

Bear insisted on going outside to play before dinner, so I brought the trike out and he climbed right on. With the help of the slanted driveway, he totally pedaled all the way down to the sidewalk and partway down the block!

Then, of course, he lost momentum and couldn't keep it going so easily. After trying for a while he gave up and went all Normann Stadler on his bike. It was hilarious.

After he threw his bike, he took off running. It's a great day, so I figured I'd see how far he'd really go and trotted after him.

Dudes. He ran. I mean, RAN. Around the whole 3/4 mile block! In a totally haphazard, adorable toddler, splay-legged, flailing arms, Phoebe in the park kind of way.

It was awesome.

Calorie Nazi Status Report

Just told The Calorie Nazi about the curried alfredo pasta I had for dinner. Flames shot out the back of my computer.

Note to self: when in doubt - and if the entree is based on butter and heavy cream, go with "doubt" - calculate the calories in a dish BEFORE eating a big plate of it.

In other news...reached another low weight this week - haven't been this since before I was married. Was really excited about it and refused to say for days for fear of jinxing it. Then I had to tell my husband and best friend. And then promptly gained 4 pounds in water weight. Apparently Aunt Flo doesn't like braggers.

Doctor Visit

I'm sure I've hinted here and there that Bear's not the easiest kid to live with. I love him more than life itself and I wouldn't change having him for the world. But there are days - and they're more often than I care to admit - that he reduces me to a sobbing mess. When he hasn't reduced me to a shrieking shell of my former self.

His daycare teachers half-jokingly refer to him as the kid they had to make special rules for. My best friend -a former child care professional - frequently reassures me that his behavior is atypical and it's not because I'm a bad mother.

It takes sharing his care with daycare, grandma and close friends for me to maintain my mental health. My best friend calls me almost every morning and evening, partially to make sure I'm doing ok after a day alone with him.

Seriously. He's THAT hard to take care of.

He's 22 months old now, and for the better part of this year everyone who's ever had contact with him has asked or suggested if he's ADHD, autistic or hearing impaired.

I basically blew it off because, well, he's 1. But now that he's almost 2 and had a frightening number of behaviors on an autism checklist, I decided it was time to bring it up with his pediatrician. She told me she doesn't feel qualified to diagnose these things in such a young child and referred me to a pediatric neurologist for evaluation.

We just got back. He said:
- Bear's definitively not autistic. (PHEW!)
- Bear is much too young to diagnose anything like ADHD (that's what I figured... but it's not ruled out)
- certain behaviors aside, Bear does not appear to be hearing impaired (I didn't think so)

What Bear IS, the neurologist feels, is "significantly speech delayed." He recommended immediately getting him into speech therapy. The goal is to keep him from backsliding from crazy smart to developmentally delayed by the time school rolls around.

The good news is that his 'receptive' speech is age appropriate (and possibly even advanced). It's his 'expressive' speech that's behind. Basically, he understands everything you say, he just doesn't talk back.

It doesn't explain the outrageously challenging behavior that characterizes my Bear, but at least it's a plan. It beats crying from frustration at the end of the day and not knowing if there's anything I can do to help him.