Tag Archives: stubborn

Speech therapy, I waited for this?

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With every question I had after every pre-therapy hoop, I was told I’d have to ask the speech therapist. Almost two full months after Sophia’s qualifying evaluation for speech therapy I finally got an appointment and then the day before it was to happen I received a cancellation call. The therapist was sick, but I didn’t care. I was pissed as hell all day. All the hoops, all the forms, prior evaluations, first time consultations with occupational therapists, meetings over expectations, all we really wanted was this one therapy.

We are sure that if we could just get Sophia talking many of our other frustrations would be minimized. It took two months to get the appointment despite having good, nay awesome insurance. They couldn’t just assign a different speech therapist to come to our home or have me go to the office though they say it’s not as effective. I don’t care. Just get me into the final phase of the system!

I received a call the following Monday, the day before we were to leave for a week for Christmas in Michigan, and was asked if we could meet in two hours. Absolutely! Every first time meeting is just a head-nod getting-to-know-you session and this one was no different. I wasn’t impressed and I don’t think she likes me much either.

I got the feeling that she didn’t see Sophia as a valid case since I was beaming over new words she picked up over the week in Hawaii. She seemed to forget that I signed up for this shit two months prior and at the time Sophia had less than twenty words. All through the therapy session, the tips and pointers she gave to helping Sophia to speak were pissing me off. “Use short, simple phrases,” “Add descriptive words to the words she says.” “Ask her questions.” “Give her choices.” I’m sure there are some people that completely ignore their child all day and then wonder why the child doesn’t speak. I’m not one of those. I didn’t give any acknowledgment to the therapists suggestions. Her tone wasn’t at all condescending but the fact that those were her main tips made it sound like anyone with a two year old who doesn’t speak must be an inept parent and fucking idiot. Either that or this therapy is a joke. Seriously, if better tricks don’t come out of the bag next time I’m going to forget about the speech part of Sophia’s therapy.

The therapist began to give examples of questions I should ask Sophia as if I couldn’t come up with them on my own. Actually, she was trying to explain how to make talking fun for Sophia. “Is this blue?” She asked Sophia holding up a red Tyco Super Block (big Legos for toddlers). I had just explained to her that Sophia was using signs from her Signing Time video that she didn’t seem to understand. Red, was one of the signs. I waited to give Sophia a chance to answer. Sophia moved on with whatever was going through her toddler head without any acknowledgment that a question was even asked of her.

That form of questioning really makes my ass twitch. I have no idea what I was really like at the age of two. I do have memories from that age, but I don’t know if I was talking or how much. I told the therapist that Sophia isn’t just a lot like me, she is mini-me. Several friends have commented that her attitudes are mine exactly. I know that Sophia is only two and may not actually know the answer to the question, but in continuing to give some background in how Sophia I think, I told the therapist that when I was little I always thought people that asked that type of question were stupid. With a touch of contempt in her voice she said, “Well some kids think it’s fun.” Clearly, I hit a nerve. She continued to tell me that she wouldn’t use that sort of question with say, a seven year old. In the specific memory I have of being asked such a question I wasn’t seven. I was four. I was just trying to give her some insight into our attitude, so bite me.

Sophia started throwing a ball around the room and the therapist said the word “ball” to her. Sophia then said ball for the first time. “Wow,” I said, “I guess I’ll be adding that one to the list.” I was informed by the therapist that, “the tend pick up words spontaneously like that after they’ve reached fifty words”. Indicating that my count must me off. Including the new word of the day, she only had 37 words at the time. I’m not counting the signs she picked up from her video because she really doesn’t seem to know what they mean. For her they all are ways to tell me she wants to watch the video again and that’s it.

Sophia got to be a bit of a pest with her ball. She kept saying, “ball” and started throwing a ball AT me. I asked her not to do that and she said, “dahp et” The therapist and I both laughed, “yes,” I said, “you need to stop it.”

I told the therapist of my attempts at getting Sophia to talk including the four months (between the ages of 18 and 22 months) I didn’t give her anything (aside from scheduled meals) unless she signed or asked for it. I wasn’t responding to finger pointing or grunts anymore if I knew she had a word or a sign for a particular want. In an almost snotty tone she asked, “and how did that go for you?” I really wanted to be a smart ass and ask her if it wasn’t obvious since there is a speech therapist standing in my house, but I refrained. I’m such a big girl…sometimes. I told her it resulted in a lot of tantrums and joked, “but I can be stubborn too.”

“Well you reap what you sow.” She told me. Seriously, what a bitch! I didn’t ask what she meant by that and she didn’t offer any explanation, but I didn’t take it as anything positive. I have another appointment with her next week. I’m fuckin’ overjoyed.

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Insignificant Woman’s Thanksgiving

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This year my parents hosted Thanksgiving. It was just them and us, not a big family gathering. I made my now traditional apple cranberry dressing and this year I made my very first pumpkin pie and pie crust.

My parents indicated that dinner would be ready at five or five thirty. Because I’m bringing stuffing I told them we would be there between four and four thirty. I mean it’s nice to eat things when they’re still warm. Stuffing doesn’t have to be piping hot, but it stays toasty for quite a while in the cast iron Dutch oven I use, usually without drying it out too much.

We arrived at four thirty. Sophia became very clingy. “Oh Sophia you’ve been here before.” My mother says. She gets close to Sophia, in her face close. Sophia begins to cry while hanging onto me. “Oh you’ve been here before, aye, don’t cry.” My mother says as if that’s going to change the way Sophia feels. I sat on the couch with Sophia for a couple minutes and again my mother gets in her face. “Oh Sophia do you want me to get out the toys? Do you? Do you want me to get the toys?” She asks. Sophia says nothing of course, and tries to turn her face away from my mother. She finally retreats and then tells me, “She should be getting to the age where she remembers things.” Sophia has a great memory. Her response has nothing to do with memory. None. My mom goes on to say, “You were never like this as a child.” I raised my eyebrow and gave her a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look. Seriously, her forgetting I was ever a shy child, or more accurately, rewriting my history is like pretending Auschwitz was just a Jewy summer camp.

I used to hide under my bed our family would come over. I would hide under there for hours (it may have only been minutes – I was a kid, the time exchange rate is different for kids), and I didn’t come out until it was almost time for them to go. I don’t know how old I was, but I imagine somewhere between three and five. “Oh you didn’t do that.” My mom said, “you used to go play in your grandpa’s camper with *cousin’s name*.” It’s true, that did happen. I remember we hit a switch in there by the sink as one of us climbed up into the bunk and we didn’t know what it was but it was making an odd noise. That was only one instance where either I didn’t hide or I came out early enough to play with my cousins before they left. My grandpa only had his camper there for a week or so and then left again. He never stuck around anywhere for very long. I don’t remember everything, but I do have a host of incredibly detailed memories.

My mom finally brought out the toys she kept mentioning to Sophia. As soon as Sophia saw them she slid down my lap to go play with them across the room. She allowed my mom to give her a hug, but then my mom tried to pick her up or give her kisses and Sophia started to push her away. Kurt and I both sat on the couch watching them. I finally spoke up when Sophia began arching her back, “I think she’s done for now.” My mom began to stand up, “oh no, she wants me to pick her up.”

“No, she wants down.” Kurt and I both said calmly. My mom put her down. Sophia went to play with the toys, and my mom went to the kitchen to continue cooking.

“The ham said three hundred and twenty-five degrees for ten minutes for every pound. I didn’t know the ham would take so long, so I just now put it in the oven.” My mom told me. That figures.

“Do you want some blueberries,” my mom asked Sophia, “I heard they’re your favorite.” I don’t know where she heard that but she was definitely miss informed. She cut up some apple for another dish she was making and gave some slices to Sophia along with some blueberries. It bothered me that she didn’t consider that Sophia might not eat after a snack, but I didn’t say anything. It’s apple, it’s not like she handed her cake or something. The blueberries went untouched of course.

Dinner was served at six thirty…thirty minutes after Sophia’s apple snack. The spread was very nice. Ham, sliced yams with apple and pineapple, mashed potatoes, gravy, peas with pearl onions, cranberry sauce, Pillsbury biscuits, and dressing. I put a little dab of everything on Sophia’s plate except for a biscuit. Sophia wouldn’t come to the table. She was too busy playing with the toys.

My mom came to the table after finding serving utensils for every dish. She served herself a little of everything. Kurt lured Sophia to the table where she stuck her finger in the little bit of mashed potatoes I gave her, quivered, and then left for the toys again. My mom grabbed a biscuit and held it up for Sophia to see, “Here Sophia come have a biscuit.”

“Please don’t give her a biscuit,” I said, “If she gets one that’s all she will want to eat.” I was completely ignored. I can see if I made the request without any explanation that someone would just blow me off thinking I’m just one of those micro-managing moms, but I specifically gave a concise background for my request. I hoped that at worst I would have to talk in-depth about Sophia finicky eating habits.

“Oh it’s ok she can have a biscuit,” my mother informs me. Really? Odd, I thought I was the mother of this one. I have rather vivid memories of squeezing her out of my who-ha. She acts as if I’m not accepting the biscuit for my child because I don’t want to bother the host. She just can’t accept the simple request that my child eat something else first. “Come here Sophia, look.” She said.

“Please don’t give her a biscuit; just don’t give it to her.” I said getting frustrated. Sophia came to the table and sat in her chair.

“See,” my mother says to me triumphantly, “she came to the table.” I said nothing. My mother waits a minute, still holding the biscuit up. I know it’s coming, her meekly uttered statements that she tries to pass off as a polite suggestion. As if it’s a change in demeanor fixes the fact that she won’t respect my one simple request, “oh Ed-EE-kah (my name said with a Mexican accent) she can have…”

I cut her off, and without any thought at all I snapped at her, “Don’t tell me how to parent MY child!!” Everything went silent for a moment. My mother understandably recoiled, but acted, as she always does, like my anger came from absolutely nowhere. The only time she ever hears me is when I snap at her.

She’s like a toddler constantly testing my tensile strength. She must have also forgotten how stubborn I was as a child. I don’t give up, not even on an issue as stupidly retarded as giving my toddler a biscuit. I know if I give in she’ll just keep chipping away at me. She has no clue where the boundaries lay and seems to presume by imagined powers vested in grandparents that she has, at minimum, equal parenting authority over Sophia. That is not the case, and it NEVER will be.

Kurt calmly explained, “We noticed that if Sophia has bread first that’s all she will eat.” My dad agreed that it’s better for her to have a variety of food and my mom finally put down the fucking biscuit. She’ll listen to Kurt, but not me. My voice is insignificant to her – that hurts like hell.

After dinner we cleared all the plates and Sophia came to the table to take her untouched plate (aside from the poked mashed potatoes) to the counter too. My mom brought out some SD disks of photos she transferred from slides to digital format and watched them on the TV. We got in a couple other minor arguments over some other incredibly stupid things. Pumpkin pie was served and then Kurt and my dad disappeared to the garage to look at my dad’s motorcycle. Sophia wanted to follow but was too slow. She came back upstairs, grabbed my mom’s hand, and led her down so she could open the door for her.

At eight o’clock Kurt, Sophia, and I got ready to go. Sophia didn’t put up any fuss getting her shoes and coat on. After she was ready she went to the door and carried Kurt’s shoes up the stairs to him. He put his shoes on and then she grabbed both of us by one finger and led us to the door.

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Brainy toddler tactical maneuvers

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This is an excerpt of an IRC chat between Smarmoofus (AKA not-a-nanny) and I about Sophia’s “separation anxiety” last night…

Smarmoofus: Seriously, though… Sophia isn’t emotional, like, sad, when you stop making her the center of your attention, right? She’s angry.

Smarmoofus: Correct?

Smarmoofus: It is NOT separation anxiety, or any other sort of anxiety. She’s messing with you.

Me: yeah, she’s angry

Smarmoofus: I wouldn’t worry about it.

Smarmoofus: When you stop responding to it, eventually (and she’s stubborn, so this is a LONG eventually) she will stop.

Me: When Kurt and I went for that walk we tested – He handed her back to me briefly and she calmed right down.

Me: She is a little shit.

Smarmoofus: Yup. She’s messing with you.

Smarmoofus: You’re going to just have to get used to the screaming.

Me: crap

Me: :S

Smarmoofus: She’s smart and stubborn. You created a mini you.

Me: shit shit shit!

Smarmoofus: hehehehhehehe

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Mamma wellness fifteen-month checkup

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This morning I made it clear that I truly needed a break from the child. Kurt stayed home from work and I locked myself in our room. I told Kurt that this arraignment wasn’t going to be a good substitute because I would just be a prisoner and if the princess was having a bad day, I could still hear it all. Not exactly the most relaxing situation especially when I feel bad that his taking this day off would be no different than the weekend we just had where I got to sleep in a bit but otherwise had to hear all the lamenting and gnashing of teeth once I come down to the kitchen for food.

Sophia actually had a good morning which was a relief, and Kurtie being the sweetheart that he can be when pressed hard enough brought food to me. The first thing he brought was an apple and knife with which to cut it. A few minutes later he literally brought me, the prisoner, a glass of water and piece of bread, the heel no less. Smart ass. Then he brought me scrambled eggs with cheese. He’s so awesome.

This morning Sophia at almost sixteen months had her fifteen-month check up. I scheduled it rather late because I had her get a flu shot before we left for our Christmas trip and since it was her first time it was a two shot deal. They give two separate half doses thirty days apart.

Sophia is thirty-one inches tall and twenty-one pounds. Not much of a height change since the last visit. The doctor said that should be seeing another growth spurt soon. She is at the fiftieth percentile for height and twentieth for weight. As usual, the nurse read a list of questions to determine is Sophia is progressing. She’s walking and climbing? Yes. Does she drink from a cup? No. the nurse advised that we switch her to a cup to avoid problems with her teeth and ear infections. Does she feed herself? Yes. Does she use any words? No. Does she know her body parts as in can she point to any body parts? No. That’s not something I’ve purposely worked with her on. I’ve been concentrating on colors, number, letters, and shapes. None of which can she identify. I really don’t think she’s paying any attention. Does she enjoy listening to you read? No, not really. She could care less. The nurse gave us a look and Kurt quickly jumped in with, “She’s not autistic, she listens and can obey commands.”

After the nurse left the room Kurt started making kissy sounds at Sophia and she being super ultra cute, leaned in so that Kurt could kiss the top of her head. It became a new game and the two of them did this several times. It was disgustingly cute. She got off my lap and started exploring the room. When the doctor came in she freaked out, slipped on the floor, and hit her tooth against her lip. Good thing we were already at the doctor’s office. *sigh* Her mouth bled but not badly. On the up side, her crying allowed me to see that she has two molars coming in on the bottom. She only has two teeth on bottom so there is a big gap between them and the two new teeth.

Despite it being my day off from baby, I had to go to the appointment with Kurt because he insisted that I bring up a medical issue that I’m having while there. We also asked about Sophia’s lack of language and her extreme clinginess to me. I told the doctor that Sophia doesn’t say ANYTHING. Nothing at all. I don’t count that when I went to Alaska in early December that while she was crying one night I distinctly heard, “ma ma ma” because she also runs around the house saying, “ma ma ma” and sometimes, “da da da”. It’s like saying her other favorite consonant combination of “tur lur lur shlur lur” or “ba ba ba” are also words. Just for the record, I’m rather fond of the “tur lur lur shlur lur”. It’s the one she uses very quietly while analyzing the intricacies of an object as she dissects or disassembles it. I like this one because if she happens to be out of my sight I know I need to check on her to make sure whatever it is that she’s destroying is Kurt’s and not mine. I love you Kurtie. *cheesy grin* She also uses those sounds to talk to her food while she inspects it’s consistency.

The only “words” she has EVER used is the sign for “all done”, which she actually invented before I started using signs with her and just happens to be very close to the real sign. She uses that one very regularly. She regularly claps her hands to show she has accomplished something she’s proud of and sometimes, very rarely, she’ll clap her hands to mean “more”. Only one time has she EVER used the sign for eat and that one was very clear and deliberate. On Thanksgiving, we had some awesome pumpkin pie from an actual bakery as opposed to Costco or some other grocery store which simply isn’t the same quality and Sophia LOVED it. She made the sign “eat” a couple times for the pumpkin pie after a few bites and never repeated it EVER again.

On a side note, I gave her an adult bite sized chunk from my slice of pumpkin pie and set it on her tray. Instead of picking the whole thing up like a regular toddler and smashing it into her face or maybe taking bites of it, my child took tiny pinches off the top and turned one adult bite into about 42 baby bites. Ok maybe 42 is a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the idea.

The doctor said to wait until 18 months to see if maybe there’s an explosion of words. He says that kids often go from zero to six words quite literally overnight and at this point she should have a three to six word vocabulary.

A few people have suggested I get this DVD or that set of children’s songs to help Sophia. I don’t think they understand when try to communicate that, “SHE DOESN’T CARE!” Oh, and I don’t like children’s songs. I know I’m such a scrooge, but don’t find them in any way cute. They are actually quite irritating to me, so they don’t get airtime in our home. And even though I take Sophia swimming twice a week where we recite nursery rhymes, for the life of me, I can’t remember any of them, so they don’t get airtime at home either.

I don’t watch TV during the day. I occasionally put on a Baby Einstein DVD, but Sophia shows no interest in them whatsoever. She’s more interested in playing with measuring cups, boxes, and her favorite Christmas present, a $3 box of alphabet flashcards from Kurt’s mom. She may in fact be listening to the DVDs but it’s not obvious and probably not as effective as listening to my voice. She does listen and often obeys when I tell her, “That’s not ours put it back on the shelf.” The only exception to Sophia’s personal TV rule is still M*A*S*H. Oh and the other day I saw a Biography on Lindsey Buckingham in which they played one of his solo songs and Sophia danced to it. She bent her knees to the beat in a very ‘white-man’ sort of dance. My dad, a Fleetwood Mac fan will be so proud.

About Sophia’s extreme attachment to me, the doctor looked up some info on Separation anxiety though it’s not what we described as the problem. Kurt told him about me not being able to leave the room at home and about the times Sophia is fine with him *until* I show up. I described how we went for a walk on Sunday. I became too tired to hold her so Kurt took over and she screamed and cried the entire time he held her despite me walking alongside them. The funny part was while I was holding her I tried to get her to walk along with us, but as I set her down it was like putting a cat in a bath. Her legs came up higher and higher as I bent lower and lower, so I passed her off to daddy. Kurt mentioned how nice it was to walk along though nature with the grass, trees, fresh air, and screaming toddler. Beautiful, just beautiful, it really warms the heart.

The doctor couldn’t think of another term that fit this situation or for this age group since a certain amount of toddler clinginess is normal. He gave it to us with the idea that it could give us some hints. The basic gist of the handout is to not be emotional when separating. That’s not too difficult especially when all I need to do is go to the bathroom. It’s not that emotional an event for me. It also said not to sneak away when the child isn’t looking. Again, I’m just going to the bathroom. Do I really need to announce my departure upstairs when Kurt is home? When it’s just Sophia and I at home, I do tell her I’m going to put laundry in the washer or get groceries from the car. She takes it well sometimes. Other times, not so much. And it said, on return don’t pick the child up. What? Not even to say good morning on a day that Kurt gets up with her instead of me? Yeah, I don’t think this applies to our case. It’s not as if I pick her up after I get groceries out of the car. I have her follow me screaming in to the kitchen while I put things away. Sometimes she’s fine with the whole process, sometimes she gets distracted by taking groceries out the bag for me and distributing them throughout the house, and other times I really want a couple shots of rum.

If anyone still thinks I’m just caving in to the desires of the princess I swear I’ll go get copies of the security tape from the last two times I’ve taken the demon seed to Target. She wanted to play with stuff on the selves and wouldn’t obey when I told her to stop so I put her in the cart. She didn’t want to sit in the cart, so she tried standing. I wound up carrying the screaming child like a football so it wouldn’t seem as if I’m condoning her behavior, and so she wouldn’t kick me. I proceeded to retrieve the items I wanted before leaving and everyone smirked at the lady carrying the evil tantrum child. I think they’ve all been there.

After the doctor left the room enough time passed for Sophia to get comfortable exploring the room again before the nurse appeared again to administer shots. When Sophia saw her, she literally shrieked and hid her face against my leg. I can’t say that I blame her on that one. Oh, and my own problem I went to this visit to discuss – I didn’t bring it up. I have no idea where Sophia gets her stubbornness. It surly isn’t from me. :P

This exceedingly long post was made possible by Kurt giving me the day off and is brought to you by grey hair and possible hearing loss. I dedicate this to one of my stalkers most dedicated commenters, Susan, and her family consisting of Hubby Henry, seventeen month old Chloe, and baby girl in the belly due in May.

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