Just Call Me Trouble

Who, me?

Today we realized that we are a tad behind on child-proofing.

I've been half-heartedly telling Nick that we really need to do the final work on the bedroom.  But so far Cora hasn't done much climbing out of bed, even though we knew it was ready to happen.  (For the record, no, she's not climbing out of a crib. She sleeps on a toddler mattress right next to our mattress, both on the floor.  It's part of our GRADUAL attempt to work her out of our bed.)

Usually she lets us know she's awake by talking or whining, and then she sits and plays until we come to her.

But last week Nick heard some noise in the room and went in to find Cora scooting toward the dresser, leaving a trail from her dirty, leaky diaper.  Again on Saturday when I went to get her up I found her scooting to the trash can.  We should have finished the child-proofing then.

But yesterday she gave not a peep.  Not even one.  The little sneaker has learned the ropes.

I heard a small bump.  The kind of bump that is typical in a house with two cats.  But still, I knew that I should go check on Cora.

This time I found her on the floor on Daddy's side of the bed.  The as yet not child-proofed side, complete with uncovered electrical outlets (yes, I know... negligent...) and even a couple pairs of Daddy's shoes, whose soles Cora will disgustingly lick if lucky enough to find a wayward pair.

But her true find was the box of tissues.



Yes, I know, not overwhelmingly naughty.  And when caught in the act she was quite pleased herself.

She was even willing to share the loot.

But it did prompt us to immediately finish our baby-proofing efforts.  We finally installed the outlet covers and tucked the wires safely away.  Oh yeah, and moved the kleenex out of reach.  Guess now we just need a more sensitive baby monitor or one with a video.

Marching, Marching!

We are big Signing Time fans over here.  Cora usually lets me know that she wants to watch it by pointing to her wrist and signing "time."  How can you resist that?

I mean, it's completely educational, and a mama has to be able to get some things done sometimes.

But lately, the Laurie Berkner Band has been giving Signing Time a run for its money.  I let Cora watch their Netflix video pretty often, since the music and the repetition is good for helping to learn speech.  She even sings along to a couple of songs.  Her speech therapist would be proud.

And since music is a great motivator for her, we practice walking while singing "We are the dinosaurs, marching, marching!"

In the last couple of days she has started asking to watch it.  She will sit on the floor and stomp her feet, pointing at the TV and smiling.

This girl may not verbalize a whole lot, but she sure knows how to communicate.

And seeing her smile as she watches the music: signing along, interjecting her little head bopping dancing when the mood strikes... priceless.

No More Sugarplums

You know that stereotype about people with Down syndrome being "always happy?"

So many of my fellow Ds moms hate that stereotype and are happy to break it down with photos of their kids melting down, crying and being little rascals.

But you know what?  I kind of wish it were true sometimes.

I understand that ascribing only one emotion or state of mind to a person can be a little de-humanizing.  I want the world to see my daughter as she is, a complex individual with her own wants and needs.

But these days a little more happy wouldn't hurt.

Let's just say that the terrible twos are in full force, even though her official birthday is a little over a month away.  The days of my mostly snuggly, smiley little girl seem to be fading into the background, replaced by an arching, flailing, griping girl, eager to avoid diaper changes, clothing changes, being fed, being put in the car. You know the drill.  She's a toddler.

I get it.  The desire to be independent is strong.  But because a certain someone's fine motor skills aren't quite up to the task of self-feeding the very few healthy foods that she can/will eat, this mama is getting frustrated. I know that kids won't starve themselves, and Cora would happily rely on nursing to fill all the gaps.  But I am growing weary of constantly nursing.

So now I am looking for ideas to help self-feed soup and yogurt.  And ideas to help a big toddler girl accept transitions.  Explaining things and signing in advance helps.

But, aye.  I'm feeling a bit exasperated.

Take last night's adventure to ZooLights at the Oregon Zoo.  I have been looking forward to taking Cora for months.  So, of course, she decided to cry almost the whole time. 

Still trying to make the most of the night...

Sharing her true feelings. Blurry, yes, but this totally captures Cora's night at the zoo.

It's time to re-set my expectations and accept that my visions of sugarplums may have to remain visions for a couple more years. You know, it's supposed to be sugarplums dancing in the children's heads.  I'm pretty sure Cora would spit out sugarplums if she had the chance.

Maybe I have to accept that feeding and clothing may be a bit of a vision too and start adjusting to my life with my toddler.

Good thing she's stinking cute.

Food is Fun

In my pre-parenting days of food obsession I used to worry about whether I'd end up with picky eaters in my family. 

Turns out, I've learned that there are many other things to worry about as a parent, and Cora's picky eating doesn't top the list.

Things seemed to go well when we introduced Cora to solids, but with severe food intolerances, significantly delayed teething, and possibly some sensory issues, eating isn't always the smoothest thing for her.

There are a couple of things that Cora will usually eat, but you can never be sure. Something that has her yelling with glee one day often hits the floor the next.  Homemade soup is a big hit, and the only way I can mix textures in a way that my girl finds acceptable. If it's all cooked together the texture must be similar enough to keep it in her mouth. And soups are a great way to get in the veggies. 

We still make it a priority to enjoy our meals together as a family every day.  It's messy and sometimes it feels like work to plan, shop, cook and clean.

But it's still fun.

Torture Disguised as Fun

As a child, my family never got our Christmas tree early.  Nope, we waited until on or after December 15th, my birthday.  I insisted upon it.  No Christmas festivities until my birthday got proper celebration.

I also had a lot of very disappointing birthdays, since the sheer anticipation made for a day that could never quite live up to my expectations.  I've tried to change, really I have, but that part of my personality still comes through sometimes.

Since Nick and I have been together, we choose to get our tree right after Thanksgiving.  We want to have it for as long as possible, especially since we never spend Christmas at home.

Last year we started our first Christmas traditions with Cora.  And instead of going to a nursery lot in town, we went out to a tree farm for our own little tree.  It was a blast.  Beautiful blue skies (not sometimes to take for granted this time of year around here), lovely trees, and a great family tradition was born.

Sunday, after coming back in town after thoroughly celebrating Thanksgiving, we bundled up and headed out to the same farm, happy that the sky was shining bright and we were going to have the kind of fun we had last year.

Cue the sad girl.  Of course.  The second we plopped her in the baby backpack she started to whine.  Soon we came back for the cuddly front pack that she loves.  Still more tears.

We spent most of the time cuddling her, singing to her and trying to make her laugh.  Successfully, for short periods.









Our trip was abridged.  No time for making ornaments or enjoying the hot chocolate or apple cider (which Cora spit out like it was poison, anyway).

But we still managed to find the perfect little tree: a small 6 foot noble to hide in the corner between the couches where Cora can't get to it, perched on a little table. 

So much for expectations....  We'll see how the rest of our festivities go.  Since we've got a few more days before December even arrives we have time for plenty more merriment.  Or tears.  Most likely a little of both.
 

 

The closest thing to a family Christmas photo. Tortured baby style. And the only pic that shows Cora's true feelings.

Thankful

Thankful.

For free-range organic turkeys, brined and roasted just so.  For smoked turkey breast, for broccoli with cheese sauce and for yam pomegranate salad.  For homemade pies.  For incredible food made with love.

For good times with family and friends. 

For a surprisingly mobile little toddler, scooting around the house, climbing up stairs and getting into things her grandparents hadn't thought to baby-proof yet.



For the Pacific Science Center and the butterfly house.  For the toddler play area and water table that a certain girlie is finally strong enough to stand and play with.



For a sassy little, sweet little, sometimes grumpy little girl, pigtails a-kilter.





For a warm, comfortable home, for people that we love around us, for all the joys in our lives.

Hello.

I guess 31 days of straight posting left me needing some breathing room, since it's been two weeks since my last post.  Probably the longest break in quite some time.

The space has been filled with rain, not nearly enough sleep, a gazillion appointments for both Cora and for me, and a couple of writing projects for our local Down syndrome association; one for a booklet on heart surgery, the other a speech for an event this weekend.

Right now I am waiting for Nick to bring Cora back for her pre-bed nursing session.  I love that time, but I am so coveting a little time alone on the couch right now.

Trying to find space around here has become an oxymoron.  

Of course, one of the cats is crawling around on my lap, desperately seeking some love.  And I feel horribly guilty every time I keep pushing her off.  She needs Mommy too, right?

But sometimes Mommy needs to be Leah.  Sigh.  Without a child/two cats/a husband pulling at my ankles.  I don't get to be just Leah very often these days.

But I've taken a step.  Yes, I've put out an ad for a babysitter a couple hours a week.  Not much, I know.  But it's a start for my terribly attached almost-two-year-old girl, and probably more of a step for me.  Dependency must run both ways.

I've had a few posts running through my head for the past two weeks, with imaginary photographs I haven't taken to accompany them (yes, it's hard these days when Cora seems to hide from the camera or frown at me when I point it at her).  I'm sure I'll get around to updating you all soon enough.

But even without a great deal of substance to say, I needed to come back.  Just a little.  But that's okay, I've decided.

So, for those that need their own Little Beanie fix, since I sometimes forget that you don't all get your own little Beanie girl every minute of every day and night. (Yes... almost every minute of every night.  That may be a slight exaggeration, but I swear, this girl does not sleep all that much.)  Here is a little sample. 

Cora the artist.

What brush strokes!

Working so hard to swish that brush around in the water.... 

"Look what I did, Mama!"

So proud!