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December 16 13 or more years of sitting still...Ben's had a bit of a busy week this week. Not only have we had a chance to watch a backhoe in action, Ben also got to sing for us and all the other parents in his preschool class. And he's gotten to do it all while Steve stayed home. He's been quite ill.
So, hmmm... Where to start?
How do you spend your husband's bonus?
You put in a brand new yard.
We moved into this house about a year ago and worked to get the yard back under control. The original owners hadn't pruned or fertilized in five years. They hardly mowed and never watered their yard during the summer according to our neighbors (they are utterly thrilled whenever they see us outside with hedge clippers).
Well, Steve has poured water and fertilizer on the soil. We've taken turns trimming up boxwoods, rhodies, laurels, and other ugly plants we have no name for. I've dumped lady bugs and aphid killer on all the rhodies. I've tried fertilizing them.
We weren't getting very far.
So, we talked to a landscaper. Our problem: no soil.
Well, we figured that. This is our third yard out here and it's the third yard with poor soil. This entire area is nothing but glaicial till: hard packed clay and lots and lots of gravel. Builders might put in a half inch of top soil if you're lucky, but they don't break up all the hard pack beneath.
But here's the important difference: this is the first yard small enough that it is somewhat economically feasible to scrap it and start over.
And so we have.
Mr. Rick, the landscaper, came by with a crew of five and a backhoe. They have so far dug up all the plants and grass, hauling off the grass and saving the plants we liked. They have regraded the entire back yard (it was graded in such a way that all the water that couldn't penetrate the hard pack sheeted off towards the house), and added four inches of topsoil.
Woo hoo!
They took off leaving us with mud for a front and back yard. Frozen mud, actually. We've had unseasonably cold weather lately. And in their place, the irrigation guys came by. For the past three days, they've dug trenches, using sledge hammers in some cases, and laid pipes. Sometimes they've removed the old pipes, sometimes not. Should prove to be real interesting for the next family that tries to redo the yard...
So the irrigation guys have done what they could; Rick should come back Monday to continue working. We've had the backhoe parked in our yard for the past four days so Rick will dig us a hole in the back yard for a shed, build a sandbox for Ben, lay down sod and re-plant our plants.
Wahoo!
Unfortunately, we'll still probably have a mud front yard when Steve's family comes by for Christmas.
Let's see... what else?
Ah yes: How do you get your very conservative, Western medicine-approved man to embrace other options?
Leave him sick for six weeks or longer.
Those of you playing along at home will remember Steve has recently had a sinus infection followed by a recurring ear infection (with pus). Just this week, he stayed home, completely unheard of for him, and saw the doc. Result? Strep throat.
Ouch.
She gave him Vicodan.
He's flying higher than a kite right now...
And he's now willing to start taking a multi-vitamin. And Airborne. And maybe some other herbal remidies shown to boost the immune system.
My poor baby...
And, oh yes, the title.
What's sad about Ben's life?
13 or more years of listening to someone tell him to sit still.
Thursday his preschool had a Winter Music Program where we parents got to come in and watch our kids sing. It was a hoot! Ben sang about half the time (which was twice as much as the grumpy boy sitting near him); he didn't always get the words right and was a few words behind the teacher, but he seemed to be having a good time. He got quite distracted when he realized his rhythm sticks matched the girl's next to him and was hushed by his teacher. He refused to let another girl collect his rhythm sticks and put them away, "I'm going to do it!" and he did (and I was glad he does that to more than just me). And he and another boy were separated by his teacher when they started feeding off each other rather than listen to the music teacher. It was a hoot!
Altho Steve did mention that Ben has ahead of him something like 13 years of listening to someone tell him to sit still and we go ahead and get him started 3 years early...
December 08 Predicting Future Health at ThreeBen went to the doc yesterday. I had a laundry list of concerns so I saved them all up and went in one time. By the way, Ben did great. I *so* love my pediatrician's office.
Diagnosis 1
Ben has "partial albinism." Yup, my white boy is extra white. We first noticed this two summers ago. At first I thought I was just really bad at putting on sunscreen as Ben's chest stayed white while his belly got a teeny little bit brown. After careful observation, I realized it wasn't my sunscreen application process. It was Ben. So. We've noticed a few other paler patches that just don't tan and our doc confirmed today what she said last summer: partial albinism. Just keep up on the sunscreen.
Diagnosis 2
Ben's hips are internally rotated. If you pay much attention to naked (or short-wearing) Ben, you'll note that his knees kind of touch. Turns out his hips are slightly internally rotated in the sockets, which turns his knees in slightly, which cascades all the way down to his toes: he's just slightly pigeon-toed and pronates when he walks. On the plus side? This will make him a faster runner. On the minus side? Well, if his body doesn't correct itself over time, he may need custom orthotics for his shoes and physical therapy to retrain his muscles or he will have foot, knee, hip, and back pain.
Funny. *My* hips are slightly internally rotated. I have been told I'm slightly pigeon-toed. I pronate. And I have foot, knee, hip, and back pain. *And* I just got fitted (again) for custom orthotics. Nice to know that at three we can predict what his health might be like at 33. Also nice to know that my problems are not a direct result of personal neglect and abuse. Maybe about half are and the rest are the genetic cards I was dealt with.
So, we just watch and wait to see if Ben's body corrects itself. If it doesn't, round about his eary teen years as he starts getting into competetive sports we may have to intervene.
Diagnosis 3
One ingrown toenail. Watch and wait. And let the dang toenail grow out. Turns out, I have not been cutting his toenails correctly since his birth. (Turns out, there is a correct way of cutting toenails.Who knew?) If you go to our pediatrician's website, there's all sorts of info, including how to cut toenails.
Diagnosis 4
Sleep Terrors. Ben doesn't sleep well. Let's face it, he never did. From in the womb till today he just doesn't sleep. Lately, he's taken to sleep walking. Yes, sleep walking. As in he wakes up in the middle of the night and walks into our room, or waits in his room, or stands at the top of the stairs, and talks to us but he says things that don't make sense and usually melts down on his way back to the bedroom if we don't take his bizarre demands seriously. End result: all we can do is put a gate up at the top of the stairs and wait it out.
Anyone have a spare gate? I think we got rid of all ours already. Sigh...
Diagnosis 5
"Well, then Mama's what has to get taken away."
In addition to Ben having sleep terrors, he just doesn't sleep. Wakes up once a night, sometimes twice. Immediately walks into our room and stands by the bed and pats my ass till I wake up and walk him back to his room.
Grr.
Haven't had a good night's sleep in days. Weeks. I'm so tired. Steve's still sick. Been sick since October. My man was sick only three times in the entire ten years of our lives together before we had Ben. Three times. Since Ben, he started out with a sinus infection a year and has since progressed to ear infections with pus and constant colds. He claims it's half due to petrie-dish Ben and half to not sleeping.
So, in desperation, I made this appointment to talk to the doc about these crazy sleep problems but, out of embarrassment, claimed the appointment was about "exzema."
So, we tried to problem-solve. She asked about our bedtime routine. She suggested that the problems we're dealing with now are a matter of discipline. She gave me lots of suggestions, to which I responded, "Tried it. Tried it. Tried that too."
She sighed deeply, saying that we were doing everything right.
Finally, she gently took Ben by the chin and asked him, "What do you need to stay in your room at night?"
Ben immediately replied, "Mama."
Ouch.
Since it's me who gets out of bed at night to put Ben back to bed, he gets "rewarded" every time he gets out of bed and I put him back.
So, now our plan is this: pick out some talisman to give Ben that reminds him of me. Something he gets to keep in his room that he has to keep "safe" by staying in his room with it. And, if he does get out of his room, Steve gets to put him to bed.
Ouch.
December 04 "Fuzzy Cow wants TEN hugs and kisses" and "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow"Every night before bed I give Ben three hugs and kisses. Tonight, instead of telling me I need to get a haircut so I don't tickle his face, Ben held up Fuzzy Cow and said, "Fuzzy Cow wants TEN hugs and kisses!"
Trying not to laugh, I said, "Three."
Ben shot back with, "Four."
So, I gave him four.
*
It snowed Thursday. Real snow. It started right after I got back from a nice morning walk. Big big snowflakes. Ben loved it! Loved watching the snow fall. Loved brushing the snow off his hair ("Snowflakes in my hair!").
We walked across the street to throw rocks into the frozen storm-water-storage pond. We stepped on the snow. We walked up the street to Elena's house to see if she wanted to play in the snow and walked right into a snowball fight.
Turns out Elena's older brother, William, and his friend Michael had built a fort and were busily packing together snowballs. Michael immediately started pelting me with snowballs. William warned all of us to NOT hit Ben in the head with snowballs but he assured me it was OK if I hit him in the head. He also assured me that it was OK if I threw the snowballs as hard as I wanted to.
Kids out here are so not used to snow that neither Michael nor William were wearing gloves. Worse, Michael was wearing a T-shirt with no coat. William was at least wearing a sweatshirt and kept the sleeves pulled down to cover his hands while he made snowballs.
Great packing snow.
We even got some sledding in on the last day of the snow. It was raining while we did it. The snow was almost completely melted while we did it. There was hardly any more snow on the ground, but we did it. About four times, before Ben got more interested in kicking the remains of some kids' fort (those same kids actually drove by. We heard them yelling at us and complaining to their friends. I'm surprised our house wasn't egged. Or graffitti'd.). |
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