tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86192921166619622502024-03-05T02:29:39.017-08:00a baby crane.pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.comBlogger275125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-19332488512018549772018-01-24T12:00:00.001-08:002018-01-24T12:02:34.294-08:00Hartley's Trial Preschool Experience<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Today I’m actually sitting down and handwriting this entry. I don’t now the last time I’ve done this but I feel like this content warrants something better than typing in the body of an email on my phone. </span><br>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>I want to start from the beginning so here it goes.<br><br>This is not politically correct, and it’s far from how I feel now but the first time a professional merely mentioned the possibility of my daughter qualifying for special education Preschool, I cringed a little inside. I remember thinking I didn’t want that; I just wanted things to be “normal”. Whatever the hell “normal” is. I look back and I understand those feelings but I certainly don’t feel that way anymore. The Preschool program I once thought meant my daughter was lesser has actually been one of the very greatest blessings of my life, and, more importantly, her life. Sometimes I think I’m pretty good with words but I know I can never do justice to what these teachers and this program has done for Hartley. The best I can do is borrow words from my mother, a former teacher, who said, “what that Preschool has done for Hartley is nothing short of a miracle”. I should also mention our developmental pediatrician has said she’s never seen a child make such great leaps in such a short period of time. What I once considered a program that meant “less” I now consider this incredible lifeline that was thrown to my daughter, and subsequently our family, that will lead to a brighter future.<br><br>With all of that said, shortly after this school year began, Hartley was much less enthusiastic about school than she was last year. I tried not to get too wrapped up in that fact, and I told myself 5 mornings a week of school is a lot so she’s not going to love every day of it. She started asking not to go to school. She’d ask if she could go to school with Patrick or take him to school with her. As these questions grew in frequency, I started to wonder if maybe there was something more to it than being burnt out on 5 mornings a week. I started to wonder if a special ed setting was no longer an appropriate setting for her. She’s evolved so much since starting Preschool in October 2016 so maybe her needs have evolved, too. Four years of parenting has taught me to follow your gut and listen to that little voice. I wasn’t exactly sure what to do but I decided to entertain the idea that Hartley could attend Patrick’s school.<br><br>So shortly before Christmas I emailed the director of Patrick’s school for a “trial day” for Hartley. I gave her a little rundown of Hartley’s background. I told her that I personally think Hartley could “keep up” in a typical classroom and wouldn’t detract from the other children’s experience. But I also know I’m her mom so my ability to be 100 percent objective is impossible. I felt like if they let us do a trial I could get more insight about switching Hartley’s school next fall. She told me she could set something up in January.<br><br>I kind of assumed I’d be following up with her in January but sure enough, the first day back from Christmas break she approached me at morning drop off. Not only had she been receptive to my request but she was proactive in helping me. His school is awesome. The director and I set up a date. Hartley and I began a countdown, and she was so excited.<br><br>When the day came, I loaded both of my kids into the car, headed to the same school. A mom could get used to that - it was nice! Hartley was happy but said, “I’m going to miss you today, Mom.” I told her I’d miss her too but I wanted her to have fun at school.<br><br>Drop off was seamless; both kids walked in happily. It was actually better than when I drop Patrick off by himself.<br><br>I was nervous and just kept pacing around the house when I got home. <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">At 10:30</a> the school called, and I braced myself for bad news. They were just calling me to update me on how well it was going. Yes, the school’s director took time out of her day to check on my child and update me so I could relax. Small things like that really speak to the character of a school.<br><br>At pick up, Hartley’s teacher for the day told me everything went well. Hartley could listen and follow directions along with the class. They enjoyed having her and said they wished they could keep her. I couldn’t help but ask if she had completely blended in. It certainly doesn’t matter but I was genuinely asking out of curiosity. The teacher said a few times she had some difficulty focusing or she would act a little silly but nothing that would warrant concern in her attending school there. She then repeated they really did wish they could keep her. Equally wonderful, Hartley loved her experience there. She continues to ask to go back!</span><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>I cried lots of happy tears that day.<br><br>I don’t know why but I sat down during nap and watched a video of Hartley at 2 years, 7 months. In the video I’m talking to her but she’s not giving any eye contact, not even a glance. She’s twirling (she’s in ballet attire in her defense). And as I ask her questions, she simply parrots back the last word of the question I ask. I watched the video on a loop. That little snippet of video reminded me just how far we have come. I just let myself cry and be so happy for the progress that’s taken place. My daughter is blossoming so beautifully.<br><br>We spent the bulk of 2016 hearing things like “behind”, “developmentally delayed”, “atypical”, and finally, “autism spectrum”. And at the beginning of 2018, I heard a teacher say my daughter could flourish in a classroom of typical developing children. I can’t full describe how great that felt but I was happy, proud, excited, and above all, grateful.<br><br>I’ll be the first person to admit, I haven’t been my best self this winter. Cold, grey days have left me feeling pretty low and really tired. But today I dropped off two Preschool applications for my children to attend the same school, and my heart felt so happy. It reminded me that I truly have so much to be thankful for.<br><br>I hope my daughter knows that I would never wish away her quirks. She is wonderfully and uniquely made. I love her for exactly who she is. But I hope she also knows that I believe in her. I want to make sure she is challenged because I truly believe she can do anything she sets her mind to. She’s made amazing leaps, and in my heart of hearts, I know this is only the beginning.<br><br>In closing, it’s not a guarantee that she’ll get a spot in this Preschool next year. So whether you pray, cross fingers or believe in good vibes, if you could send some prayers, crossed fingers or good juju our way in hopes of Hartley getting a spot, that would be much appreciated :) </span></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-3809803446004052812017-12-15T16:57:00.001-08:002018-01-24T11:42:20.477-08:00<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Today I’m actually sitting down and handwriting this entry. I don’t now the last time I’ve done this but I feel like this content warrants something better than typing in the body of an email on my phone. <br><br>I want to start from the beginning so here it goes. <br><br>This is not politically correct, and it’s far from how I feel now but the first time a professional merely mentioned the possibility of my daughter qualifying for special education Preschool, I cringed a little inside. I remember thinking I didn’t want that; I just wanted things to be “normal”. Whatever the hell “normal” is. I look back and I understand those feelings but I certainly don’t feel that way anymore. The Preschool program I once thought meant my daughter was lesser has actually been one of the very greatest blessings of my life, and, more importantly, her life. Sometimes I think I’m pretty good with words but I know I can never do justice to what these teachers and this program has done for Hartley. The best I can do is borrow words from my mother, a former teacher, who said, “what that Preschool has done for Hartley is nothing short of a miracle”. I should also mention our developmental pediatrician has said she’s never seen a child make such great leaps in such a short period of time. What I once considered a program that meant “less” I now consider this incredible lifeline that was thrown to my daughter, and subsequently our family, that will lead to a brighter future. <br><br>With all of that said, shortly after this school year began, Hartley was much less enthusiastic about school than she was last year. I tried not to get too wrapped up in that fact, and I told myself 5 mornings a week of school is a lot so she’s not going to love every day of it. She started asking not to go to school. She’d ask if she could go to school with Patrick or take him to school with her. As these questions grew in frequency, I started to wonder if maybe there was something more to it than being burnt out on 5 mornings a week. I started to wonder if a special ed setting was no longer an appropriate setting for her. She’s evolved so much since starting Preschool in October 2016 so maybe her needs have evolved, too. Four years of parenting has taught me to follow your gut and listen to that little voice. I wasn’t exactly sure what to do but I decided to entertain the idea that Hartley could attend Patrick’s school. <br><br>So shortly before Christmas I emailed the director of Patrick’s school for a “trial day” for Hartley. I gave her a little rundown of Hartley’s background. I told her that I personally think Hartley could “keep up” in a typical classroom and wouldn’t detract from the other children’s experience. But I also know I’m her mom so my ability to be 100 percent objective is impossible. I felt like if they let us do a trial I could get more insight about switching Hartley’s school next fall. She told me she could set something up in January. <br><br>I kind of assumed I’d be following up with her in January but sure enough, the first day back from Christmas break she approached me at morning drop off. Not only had she been receptive to my request but she was proactive in helping me. His school is awesome. The director and I set up a date. Hartley and I began a countdown, and she was so excited. <br><br>When the day came, I loaded both of my kids into the car, headed to the same school. A mom could get used to that - it was nice! Hartley was happy but said, “I’m going to miss you today, Mom.” I told her I’d miss her too but I wanted her to have fun at school.<br><br>Drop off was seamless; both kids walked in happily. It was actually better than when I drop Patrick off by himself. <br><br>I was nervous and just kept pacing around the house when I got home. <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0">At 10:30</a> the school called, and I braced myself for bad news. They were just calling me to update me on how well it was going. Yes, the school’s director took time out of her day to check on my child and update me so I could relax. Small things like that really speak to the character of a school. <br><br>At pick up, Hartley’s teacher for the day told me everything went well. Hartley could listen and follow directions along with the class. They enjoyed having her and said they wished they could keep her. I couldn’t help but ask if she had completely blended in. It certainly doesn’t matter but I was genuinely asking out of curiosity. The teacher said a few times she had some difficulty focusing or she would act a little silly but nothing that would warrant concern in her attending school there. She then repeated they really did wish they could keep her. <br><br>I cried lots of happy tears that day. <br><br>I don’t know why but I sat down during nap and watched a video of Hartley at 2 years, 7 months. In the video I’m talking to her but she’s not giving any eye contact, not even a glance. She’s twirling (she’s in ballet attire in her defense). And as I ask her questions, she simply parrots back the last word of the question I ask. I watched the video on a loop. That little snippet of video reminded me just how far we have come. I just let myself cry and be so happy for the progress that’s taken place. My daughter is blossoming so beautifully. <br><br>We spent the bulk of 2016 hearing things like “behind”, “developmentally delayed”, “atypical”, and finally, “autism spectrum”. And at the beginning of 2018, I heard a teacher say my daughter could flourish in a classroom of typical developing children. I can’t full describe how great that felt but I was happy, proud, excited, and above all, grateful. <br><br>I’ll be the first person to admit, I haven’t been my best self this winter. Cold, grey days have left me feeling pretty low and really tired. But today I dropped off two Preschool applications for my children to attend the same school, and my heart felt so happy. It reminded me that I truly have so much to be thankful for. <br><br>I hope my daughter knows that I would never wish away her quirks. She is wonderfully and uniquely made. I love her for exactly who she is. But I hope she also knows that I believe in her. I want to make sure she is challenged because I truly believe she can do anything she sets her mind to. She’s made amazing leaps, and in my heart of hearts, I know this is only the beginning.<br><br>In closing, it’s not a guarantee that she’ll get a spot in this Preschool next year. So whether you pray, cross fingers or believe in good vibes, if you could send some prayers, crossed fingers or good juju our way in hopes of Hartley getting a spot, that would be much appreciated :) </span><br style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-61634429677370582872017-10-12T12:29:00.001-07:002017-10-12T12:29:56.286-07:00Milestones<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I'm hoping to write this in such a manner that it doesn't come off as a rant because it isn't one. But this is a blog I've wanted to write for some time, and just haven't gotten around to sitting down and doing so. <br><br>I'll start from the beginning.<br><br>On Hartley's 3rd birthday, a little alarm went off in my brain that said, "3 years old! Time to potty train!" As she's my oldest child, I admittedly had no clue what I was supposed to do next. I'd been having Hartley watch me in the bathroom. I'd been reading her fun potty books. I'd already purchased a cool Elmo potty. And we were all about watching the Elmo's Potty Time DVD. But I wasn't sure what came next so I reached out to Hartley's teacher, a woman and mother with education and lots of experience. I sent her an email and awaited for some magical secrets to come my way. <br><br>Instead of magical secrets, she pulled me aside at pick up, and I could tell she was being careful not to hurt my feeling or disappoint me. She told me Hartley wasn't displaying any readiness signs to begin potty training, and if she wasn't ready, it wouldn't work. She said she might be ready over the summer. Anyone who knows me knows I've come to embrace the individual timeline of childhood so I tried to hit home with the teacher that I was cool with that but I just thought I should bring it up because of her birthday. <br><br>Over the summer, my mom aka Santa Claus, dropped off pack after pack of cool underpants with designs and characters that Hartley loved. So I decided to make a go of it, and go with the whole, "don't you want to wear cool Peppa underwear like a big girl?" approach. Well, I'm not going to delve into details here but after just a couple days I could tell she still wasn't ready. I was honestly okay with that. <br><br>Ok, now it's fall, and she's in school again, and I'm making my hardest, strongest push to date. I've gathered all the tips and tricks, and we're trying them left and right. And I think (maybe wishful thinking, I don't know), it's clicking a little bit this time. I'm determined this will be the time we push through and get it!<br><br>But on Columbus Day when I was home with both kids, I was feeling a little overwhelmed. We were probably not even two hours into the day, which meant probably the tenth potty visit with no luck. I was sitting on the floor of my powder room pulling up Potty Time on YouTube for H to watch on the throne. And in that moment I wanted to feel better, like it was okay to have a 3.5 year old who wasn't potty trained. I turned to google - holy big mistake, Batman. The first page it turned up was a mom posting on a mom's board, "Isn't it child neglect or at least lazy parenting to not have trained your 3 or 4 year old to use the potty?"<br><br>Now, the internet is all sorts of dangerous for mom's. The most ignorant of people have this beautiful confidence that seems to spawn from being anonymous; they become expert level parents from their years of parenting that don't even fill up a whole hand yet. So I know to take these things with a grain of salt. But it did lead me to want to steal a page from their playbook and come to my space on the internet to talk about what I've learned in my less than handful of years of parenting experience ;)<br><br>I'll admit, before I was a parent, I thought I'd do things perfectly. I would have all the answers and the best rules. I had it totally figured out - I just didn't have the kid yet. And then I had a baby. I was humbled a little bit because she was a tricky (understatement) newborn. In her infancy, she was this stellar little human who was hitting her baby milestones early or on time, and that definitely stroked the old ego. <br><br>It was all going great until some point when I started to realize it wasn't. To date, the point when Hartley's development started to branch off from what was typical was the hardest chapter of my life. I felt guilt. I blamed myself. I felt sadness. I felt disappointment. I felt like my world was crashing down around me because things weren't timeline perfect (to say the least). <br><br>If I could go back in time and tell myself one thing it would be this, "Your daughter is bright and brilliant. She's doing things differently. And that is ok. It's not your fault. It's not her fault. She is unique, and that is a wonderful way to be." <br><br>Reading that post online reminded me of that. <br><br>I have two beautiful, healthy children, and they could not be more different from one another. The milestones that came in earlier for Hartley, came in late for Patrick. And vice versa! As parents, it's our job to guide and encourage our children. To give them opportunities to succeed (and also, sometimes fail). It's a tough balance to strike but we need to push them and simultaneously accept them. Side note: for me, that will always be my biggest challenge as a parent. <br><br>Parenting is a long term game in every sense of the term. There are all sorts of little things along the way that help us get to the final goal of our children being well-adjusted, self-sufficient humans. I whole heartedly believe that everyone has their own timeline. And just because some things happen later, does not a loser mother make! If we're working to move forward when we can, we're doing just fine!<br><br>One of the most brilliant mothers I know is my own mom. The woman literally had 3 children under the age of two at the same time. I don't even know how many motherhood gold stars that earns a person - an infinite amount. I'm biased but I think she did a killer job. But to give an example, my brother and I didn't walk until we were 16 months old. Doctors say if a child walks before 18 months that is "typical development". But as a mom who had a child walk later (Patrick at 14 months), I can tell you that I definitely received judgement around my baby boy not walking around his first birthday. Gasp, what I must've done wrong! <br><br>I digress. Back to my point - my mom had twins that walked at 16 months. My mom will tell you my brother waited for his lazy twin sister, and there's probably truth to that ;) But regardless, we weren't walking at freshly a year. Guess what happened? We both walked. I write this after I spent my morning jogging on the treadmill. And my brother? Well, he's literally run marathons! So what if we didn't walk early; we're both doing just fine. And let's be honest, my brother running marathons probably puts him in higher than the "fine" category!<br><br>Anyway, here I am with a daughter who is 3 years, 8 months, and we're a work in progress with the potty. She'll get there! She's done many, many things early so so what if this is a little late? It doesn't equate to child neglect or lazy parenting. It also doesn't mean that there's something wrong with Hartley. This is just her timeline. <br><br>The thread that my google search populated from was an old one, and I'm not in the business of getting into mommy internet fights. I'm pretty sure hell is just a hot place where you're forced to go tit for tat online with a stranger about breast feeding. Ok, I totally intended that pun because it was too good to pass up! But food for thought I'd pass along to mom's who think that way, potty training your child early doesn't mean your winning motherhood; you still have lots and lots of work ahead of you. And passing judgement on people whose kids might potty train later than yours? Well, that doesn't make you a very nice human being either. <br><br>Let's all try to help our kids move forward, trying to figure out a timeline with goals that are right for them. Let's cheer them on for their successes and comfort them in their failures. I'm so cheesy I can't even take it but these are the words of a woman living on coffee, wine and prayers. And oh, lots of laundry detergent ;)</span>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-16936664837249667422017-09-29T12:29:00.001-07:002017-09-29T12:39:47.943-07:00Back To School<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So I actually wrote a back to school blog entry detailing the kids' first week of school and their transitions only to not be able to find my iPad to be able to publish it! Then the other day I was walking over a rug in my family room and felt an oddly hard rectangle that seemed to be hidden under the rug, which turned out to be said iPad. I feel like this stuff doesn't happen to other people but maybe other people with small children find goodies under their rugs? My kids literally went through a phase where they liked to pretend the rug was a blanket. If only I were kidding but you'd be amazed at the creative ways Hartley and Patrick can turn my house upside down.<br><br>When I found it, I went to charge it and retroactively publish my post the entry but it already seems so dated! Only with little ones do I feel like my world can have drastic shifts in a matter of a couple weeks.<br><br>I did want to come on here to say that both of the kids are absolutely loving school, and I could not be happier. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKnfZ_s6oKn7GIXhZUf_Nk0NRSqZZ9Myb7Ryat8m1jXpKWwXuFVCEDg3eDYNW96qumZ36J_fuPK31B_zDL2Wgcf_uxutxEG-05nnfnaSFhIGf_S7jJgpdlPD7oEMfHXOz_qY_Ivue-Mxd/s640/blogger-image--1497415574.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdKnfZ_s6oKn7GIXhZUf_Nk0NRSqZZ9Myb7Ryat8m1jXpKWwXuFVCEDg3eDYNW96qumZ36J_fuPK31B_zDL2Wgcf_uxutxEG-05nnfnaSFhIGf_S7jJgpdlPD7oEMfHXOz_qY_Ivue-Mxd/s640/blogger-image--1497415574.jpg"></a></div><br>Hartley's big change this year was starting to ride the bus, and I have to say that was definitely the hardest part of the new school year for me. She's only ever been driven by my parents, Brian, and I, so handing her over to a bus driver I had never met before hit me pretty hard. It was hard for Hartley, too, and there were lots of tears when she realized I wasn't getting on the bus with her. But being the impressive little person she is, she warmed up to the bus, bus driver and aide very quickly. The second day she boarded without tears. And every day since then she's boarded the bus with a huge smile. Her little eyes and nose are all that show in the window; she looks teeny on that big yellow bus! But she watches me and gives a wave as it pulls away each morning. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Here she is waiting for the bus:</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCSUqMvqeW0QyFa2SQ_CIJ1MXjf_lQDGiMajAvEqKOrUUiIXUQRZBv4I22zvasmCcLuGOMehYsDHdy6smdepkF6qD8dXZi05F3_zSFIYrpCrlwisRtr-LMLclDZCKMSbjoqqzcIcqNY3An/s640/blogger-image-2099633706.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCSUqMvqeW0QyFa2SQ_CIJ1MXjf_lQDGiMajAvEqKOrUUiIXUQRZBv4I22zvasmCcLuGOMehYsDHdy6smdepkF6qD8dXZi05F3_zSFIYrpCrlwisRtr-LMLclDZCKMSbjoqqzcIcqNY3An/s640/blogger-image-2099633706.jpg"></a></div><br>She's the first on the route to school and the last on the route home which makes it about a 30-35 minute ride each way! She brings a stuffed animal to be her bus buddy, and I think that helps her a lot. I'm also very grateful at how much the driver and aide have really put Hartley and me at ease. Since the last couple months have literally been the first times I've trusted my children with non-family members, I have a great appreciation for these people who take care of my kids as if they were their own. <br><br>Patrick's transition was not as fast as Hartley's, which I fully anticipated. He cried at drop off the first day but the teachers told me it was very short lived; once I was out of his line of sight, he was okay. He almost never has cried during school, just drop offs. Each drop off he cried less. Now we're down to maybe a little half hearted whimper as I unload him from the car, and then he'll happily take his teacher's hand and walk in. <br><br>Both of their schools are absolutely wonderful. They are very different, and I think they suit each of the kids perfectly.<br><br>Hartley's school obviously wasn't one we picked but it is just phenomenal! Something about the structure just speaks to Hartley, and in my heart of hearts, I know it's been the main driving force behind her fantastic progress. As the summer progressed I saw things stall out for her a little. Something I used to beat myself up about before she started school in the first place was "what am I doing wrong?" And now I know, as her mom I can take her on all the field trips or organize all the play dates, but there is a structure at school that I simply can't replicate at home. A FCPS teacher actually told me that as her mom it's not my job to try to replicate the structure of school but rather give her the softer, safer place to fall. When I felt like she had regressed a little over summer that was hard to remember but now that we're back to school I can embrace it. <br><br>Patrick's school is different, and it just felt like the best place for him. I'll admit, a year ago I never would've even thought that he'd be attending school this fall. He is young - the second youngest in his class (by a day)! But we actually decided to enroll him because of the all the growth we saw for Hartley last year. The beauty of him starting preschool was that it was my second time at the rodeo. I knew to look into schools last winter so we'd get a spot somewhere we loved for this fall. I knew freshly two was young to start school but I didn't see any real con's to it. Then at Patrick's two year check up the doctor recommended he start some form of preschool! His verbal skills aren't a real cause for concern (at least not yet) but they are coming in later, and the doctor said how great school is for kids who are slower to verbalize. It was kind of a happy accident that we already had it lined up but that might've been my first "on the ball" mom moment ever ;) </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzYfTAZphPrzxrh6tjmPnBeXhhlg_7ipNslym7a4trz_PozKHw-qQ5vJXi4mdQT3NOE4AVac6ENsQ7Z-i-EPAcuk3s_3w4JNa-pBdt1f0BZXJ1-7e2V_LubF_lkuT5zt4zzJgVWOxS7XJ/s640/blogger-image-346340295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzYfTAZphPrzxrh6tjmPnBeXhhlg_7ipNslym7a4trz_PozKHw-qQ5vJXi4mdQT3NOE4AVac6ENsQ7Z-i-EPAcuk3s_3w4JNa-pBdt1f0BZXJ1-7e2V_LubF_lkuT5zt4zzJgVWOxS7XJ/s640/blogger-image-346340295.jpg"></a></div><br>His school is just the sweetest thing ever. I love love love his teachers; they are the nicest group of women. It's such a warm and welcoming school with a nice sense of community. They even told mom's at back to school night that if they wanted to come in to the office and have a cup of coffee on the first day of school that they were welcome to. Patrick's teacher told me, "if he cries the whole day the first time you leave him, I'll rock him in the rocking chair all day for you." They put so much time and effort to the transition for the kids, and it was not lost on me. Well, Patrick loves school. He's learning, having fun, and coming home tired - I truly couldn't ask for more. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsHG4_xGOgukIhAoogXDDE4trSIo5C4K06R3DWI_dKiZk1QRXzDhDEUEdlg6HTre_l7E4g-x6C1jCGlis5n6_-9JRcNn0iU1XidTMBg7gpvi8H92hCQgs0AdQ0osmgLQ0eYQiTrs789xLf/s640/blogger-image--335025155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsHG4_xGOgukIhAoogXDDE4trSIo5C4K06R3DWI_dKiZk1QRXzDhDEUEdlg6HTre_l7E4g-x6C1jCGlis5n6_-9JRcNn0iU1XidTMBg7gpvi8H92hCQgs0AdQ0osmgLQ0eYQiTrs789xLf/s640/blogger-image--335025155.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQeECIqPrXg-Drteqsg7A6JKYEqy9XJDYe0XxK_ATN9tel-UAzQTSY6qFIp0fRTnFiePWDaQkPKELoVAjDaVnHspYFn3kvmrWsnn-PeDwRExFTmNg1H67CkFoyTLa9a6o5xKmSVhMHF_pR/s640/blogger-image--1856475012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQeECIqPrXg-Drteqsg7A6JKYEqy9XJDYe0XxK_ATN9tel-UAzQTSY6qFIp0fRTnFiePWDaQkPKELoVAjDaVnHspYFn3kvmrWsnn-PeDwRExFTmNg1H67CkFoyTLa9a6o5xKmSVhMHF_pR/s640/blogger-image--1856475012.jpg"></a></div></div><br>Lastly, school has been so wonderful for me. I know, I know, it's not supposed to be about the mom. But I opened up on my blog over the summer with my feelings of being burnt out. I know that sometimes it sounds really silly to people to say that being a stay at home mom can be draining but I've found that it can be. I had felt so much guilt about admitting that. I love my kids and I love the opportunity that I have to get to be home for these early years. But I also really love that I now get a handful of hours a week where I don't constantly have someone in tow. I feel like it actually allows me to appreciate my time with them more because I have some time to recharge my kid batteries. I have more energy and patience for them. I actually injured my back pretty badly earlier this year from carrying Patrick (the downside to having a ginormous babe), and now that I have these bits of "time off", I actually physically feel better! <br><br>This fall is off to a really great start. I feel like we're now in one of those really good chapters of life that you long to bottle up. Everyone is happy, healthy, and our little Crane world is at peace. <br><br>I hope everyone else that has gone through the back to school transition is finding their groove, too. I'm pretty convinced now that Fall really is the most magical time of the year :)</span></div></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-87737339492850981782017-08-23T08:04:00.001-07:002017-08-23T08:05:11.603-07:00Summer Wrap Up<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I've basically fallen off the blogging grid this summer. I started out with high hopes; I was going to chronicle all of the fun things we did, starting with our awesome beach trip. But the cruel reality of this summer has been that caring for and entertaining a 2 and 3 year old has kept me busy and exhausted, and there hasn't been a great deal of time for anything else. <br><br>I want to sit here and say that our summer was a fun-filled breeze but it wasn't. While it actually was a lot of fun, it was also very challenging. Neither of my children is potty-trained yet (I know, clearly I'm at the top of the list for Mother Of The Year) so there were lots of diaper changes, which Patrick still loves to physically fight me on for some strange reason. Also, he still tosses poop diapers around if he yanks it away from me in time, joy. Neither of them can dress or undress themselves (though we made some progress in this area over the summer and maybe Patrick fights me slightly less when I dress him?). Neither can do their shoes or bring me their snack or drink cups to refill, or look for lost snack or drink cups for that matter. And they don't eat meals I make them - just a minimum of a dozen snacks a day. Patrick has gotten better about walking but still prefers to be carried - and he's 41 pounds. Neither likes to cooperate while I put on sunscreen so they cry and Patrick flails around and runs away from me as if he were on fire. There's been rivalry, hair pulling, hitting and shoving. There have been tantrums and meltdowns. Screaming. Crying. Fighting. Literal holes in the wall. Messes and stains galore. Days where my hardwood floors appeared to actually be carpet as they were covered in Cheerios and Ritz cracker dust. Bodily injuries. A stomach bug. And I feel like I've heard "Mom! Mom! MAAMAA!" whined or shouted at least a hundred thousand times. <br><br>This was a summer I didn't see coming. At the end of last summer I thought, "well next summer they'll be older and listening to directions." Past Page, your idealistic vision of the future failed me. I learned the joys of two kids (not listening) running opposite directions, and I learned the harsh reality that I can no longer carry them both. I learned that these ages are a challenging combination. They are still very reliant on me for almost everything yet they are now old enough to assert themselves with one another and with me. <br><br>With all of that said, I'm very proud of myself. As this summer winds to a close, I have to give myself a gigantic pat on the back. I did so much for them this summer. I tried to make it as fun-filled as possible, and I genuinely believe during this challenge level of parenting, that I did. There's nothing on the summer bucket list that we didn't do! <br><br>At the beginning of summer my goal was that I was going to make sure that a minimum of three days a week I did something fun with them. Either play dates or field trips but that I planned to take them somewhere fun or to play with friends. I blew this goal out of the water. We ended up having very few days where we were at home all day. If we did it was usually a rain day or a scorcher. Obviously we did fun things at home when we weren't on an outing but I didn't want to spend the whole summer cooped up inside, and we definitely didn't. And to anyone reading who thinks taking them out of the house is hardly an accomplishment, you are totally welcome to borrow my children to take on as many outings as you like ;)<br><br>Ok, a laundry list of summer 2017! <br><br>We went to the beach for a week (best week ever). We went to the pool. We visited a Children's Museum. The kids rode bumper boats for the first time. We frequented the petting zoo, various parks and playgrounds, and the splash pad. We hosted and attended our MOMS Club playgroup. We did lots of play dates. We did lots of deck time: eating Popsicles, playing with the water table, sand table, baby pool and bubble machine. We did our red neck pool parties with our inflatable pool an running through the sprinkler. We did wagon rides and trail walks. We were in and watched a Fourth of July parade. The kids went to a Japanese hibachi restaurant for the first time. We went to the mall play place and rode the carousel on a rainy day. Hartley got her first haircut (and Patrick got his fourth!). We went to Udvar Hazy (the Air & Space museum). We went to Theatre In The Woods at Wolf Trap to see Pinkalicuous and Wilhelmina the Opera. We threw Patrick a 2nd birthday party with friends and family. We took the kids to the Baltimore Aquarium. We got to see a Rocknosceros concert at Burke Lake Park. The kids got to go have fun-filled days playing at Nana & Poppy's house or splashing around in their neighborhood pool. On my low key days with the kids, we did art time inside - coloring or painting. We played with toys. Patrick's favorite toy this summer was his trains and train tracks so we designed lots of fun track set ups. Hartley's favorite toys to play with were ones where she could do pretend play, so playing with figurines (Peppa ones, calico critters) in her Little People dollhouse. She also loved attempting to play House with Patrick. We read books and baked. And jumped on the bed a million times! We took a lot of just for fun baths in mama's tub, and we snuggled and watched movies in our jammies. <br><br>I learned to be picky with the places I took the kids by myself. We obviously jumped at play date invites since I can easily take them to other people's houses. When we were solo I would either do the petting zoo, small less-crowded playgrounds or ones with fences, and a small less-crowded splashpad near our house. Unfortunately nothing is walkable from our house and that's why a lot of outings are productions for us. Last summer Patrick wasn't walking so we did way more variety, and this summer I just had to be pickier. The wagon was my people mover of choice this year but for quick gym or errand runs I used my double stroller. I only think I went out once by myself without a stroller or wagon (which I learned was a mistake). I learned backpacks are gold. I use to think a backpack diaper bag looked dorky but this summer I needed both hands, and my new backpack saved my life. Just my two cents if anyone else out there finds themselves juggling a 2 & 3 year old! <br><br>I'm so very ready for school to start but now that that finish line is in sight, I actually do plan to soak up what is left of our summer break. Having Hartley in school five mornings a week is so wonderful for her and it gives us so much structure, but I do know I'll miss her once we get back into the swing of things. Motherhood is such a bizarre, tricky thing: so many moments this summer I just wanted it to be school time, yet I know I will miss her when she's back at school. Patrick will be in school only two mornings a week so that absence feels much more welcome ;) It will be our first time spending regular time apart, and I think/hope it'll be good for us both. <br><br>Anyway, I actually have more to say and write but this was a lot. And I'm living on borrowed nap time so it's for another day. <br><br>Hope everyone gets to soak up the last bits of summer before the most wonderful time of the year starts ;) </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Some photo favorites: </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLzG58lb0oDcRYj_nlvZUQVMxK1GTPq9NsIao1yg-QiLKsnCXVZpXylmZVV1u55628_VdNHvtFU93yTHFOpS80zbWmPc3Eb8-d_acJbDbKwxouU9mtwFxN1CTfuI69s1OhZsKthyphenhyphenKso4qm/s640/blogger-image--1794426050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLzG58lb0oDcRYj_nlvZUQVMxK1GTPq9NsIao1yg-QiLKsnCXVZpXylmZVV1u55628_VdNHvtFU93yTHFOpS80zbWmPc3Eb8-d_acJbDbKwxouU9mtwFxN1CTfuI69s1OhZsKthyphenhyphenKso4qm/s640/blogger-image--1794426050.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTOYogbRK4Q9CTA1PGj0RLLWwWZlmwffaiCOWHvGfA_i4IjYU-xWVKYuiR1HwV8iKFo1z-O-ZLmsEoEPeAZUQE5E1HYkCZ5MZEuDwSH_A62o4uUvy3eU9FzsDuiyCmmK8w2Zrcx05cmfu/s640/blogger-image-1541180644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMTOYogbRK4Q9CTA1PGj0RLLWwWZlmwffaiCOWHvGfA_i4IjYU-xWVKYuiR1HwV8iKFo1z-O-ZLmsEoEPeAZUQE5E1HYkCZ5MZEuDwSH_A62o4uUvy3eU9FzsDuiyCmmK8w2Zrcx05cmfu/s640/blogger-image-1541180644.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_FWvEyhVLyP2eqhciJTyFRt3PA2v212D4oNVdSj3BvpWMzFtcmOxrFM1OWzUiiLB6EEVUj9GJE3enZW_brf2pi4YWOt65ZU429Xy5R522gI1J9ui7wLS40Vg2y6l98XRGZnMMmiSehWVU/s640/blogger-image-641878687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_FWvEyhVLyP2eqhciJTyFRt3PA2v212D4oNVdSj3BvpWMzFtcmOxrFM1OWzUiiLB6EEVUj9GJE3enZW_brf2pi4YWOt65ZU429Xy5R522gI1J9ui7wLS40Vg2y6l98XRGZnMMmiSehWVU/s640/blogger-image-641878687.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzvfpMTvxP1FSZ1Lj5ROXL3FiwCDlJDALYOxNLcoRgASdVTJDkUbKvCh6q4u46A8PJAZIvdUqvjv4fIRbvJH-gCUFGYBY7hu77BLay5lsGIz8wz-SWQd0-nSaUJh3yu6hXT7FXNg-55rAN/s640/blogger-image--989030646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzvfpMTvxP1FSZ1Lj5ROXL3FiwCDlJDALYOxNLcoRgASdVTJDkUbKvCh6q4u46A8PJAZIvdUqvjv4fIRbvJH-gCUFGYBY7hu77BLay5lsGIz8wz-SWQd0-nSaUJh3yu6hXT7FXNg-55rAN/s640/blogger-image--989030646.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKeaPcLTO2hwfrlh7CYZKNYR0Ss8_IPRWqy9n8jyyZ7Bi4NWJJ_3QyakFFPMu8aft57Jz_VpR-2UJ5cSzK4yC9gFq6BuXJ366XYwL1FG55FQTuE50n7JamYXDP-ivmZsgQ8EyTLgYG-8-o/s640/blogger-image--1856933849.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKeaPcLTO2hwfrlh7CYZKNYR0Ss8_IPRWqy9n8jyyZ7Bi4NWJJ_3QyakFFPMu8aft57Jz_VpR-2UJ5cSzK4yC9gFq6BuXJ366XYwL1FG55FQTuE50n7JamYXDP-ivmZsgQ8EyTLgYG-8-o/s640/blogger-image--1856933849.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_u5OjNm-oUDnvenUYs9lT87Q5ekyEww5oaN8lPpQA0309W0n-zDOgfdBw2tbow1Msj7-k4n-AVLgzokgTpZ3LvkzWD7sqACFHVPzrBDTtL_8RN91rPMeJTK9LMyCcpAIwITtOttCdFsq/s640/blogger-image-1955068290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_u5OjNm-oUDnvenUYs9lT87Q5ekyEww5oaN8lPpQA0309W0n-zDOgfdBw2tbow1Msj7-k4n-AVLgzokgTpZ3LvkzWD7sqACFHVPzrBDTtL_8RN91rPMeJTK9LMyCcpAIwITtOttCdFsq/s640/blogger-image-1955068290.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix65Vs5LT6ChdHuvrkwbiqLtT8-Er2cN7llZZtrfSZqEaA-tyRxKujkeE1F_Ot7LbeadteGCQJLQaCVyCJK1kgp5SPg97908W8iHITxayeYuXS3bEOQtU-dY0vwwq58siPMNQhgB9qSaNK/s640/blogger-image--1087123003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix65Vs5LT6ChdHuvrkwbiqLtT8-Er2cN7llZZtrfSZqEaA-tyRxKujkeE1F_Ot7LbeadteGCQJLQaCVyCJK1kgp5SPg97908W8iHITxayeYuXS3bEOQtU-dY0vwwq58siPMNQhgB9qSaNK/s640/blogger-image--1087123003.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuaTpqGCiK8lF4mwjlPIIYjr1w4HwzC9qLN1Qr3xbjhpZIiZK_v7XGkc409MzDgzDu4LuQksvIx9VYsq-O4N8spLVGcVW3v3cXLZlSNyb5rqM0ataLUh7KgLXhBm8VP9hdZj7QZorBSqpv/s640/blogger-image--1708349578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuaTpqGCiK8lF4mwjlPIIYjr1w4HwzC9qLN1Qr3xbjhpZIiZK_v7XGkc409MzDgzDu4LuQksvIx9VYsq-O4N8spLVGcVW3v3cXLZlSNyb5rqM0ataLUh7KgLXhBm8VP9hdZj7QZorBSqpv/s640/blogger-image--1708349578.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSFYxLFXmVe6JNVn05Yi2GW6HdLZbj7Vuei2GnR8DQKImRPKRag6VdS2nsJuR6VDdtJ2LDHtl-nf6DkIU1v89czWPG1dK9Nl3vx4-Eh2hBmfFS2bX6uGWtNHLbfnrYAO6agsUtONEdf1Wg/s640/blogger-image--1877899910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSFYxLFXmVe6JNVn05Yi2GW6HdLZbj7Vuei2GnR8DQKImRPKRag6VdS2nsJuR6VDdtJ2LDHtl-nf6DkIU1v89czWPG1dK9Nl3vx4-Eh2hBmfFS2bX6uGWtNHLbfnrYAO6agsUtONEdf1Wg/s640/blogger-image--1877899910.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf1H0I6qAEYsnmLrz4i0k7W1P2rsFw41jnkjqc85YKykh2MkM4RYQXbeL80LWf274EkHqKCQA46QSQlFjkbUrylYmCiZGH3QYC8X3fO1aZo_yNr8ymfAy_e5RlW78tKTt2PP1g0C0TlLDh/s640/blogger-image-1008986025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf1H0I6qAEYsnmLrz4i0k7W1P2rsFw41jnkjqc85YKykh2MkM4RYQXbeL80LWf274EkHqKCQA46QSQlFjkbUrylYmCiZGH3QYC8X3fO1aZo_yNr8ymfAy_e5RlW78tKTt2PP1g0C0TlLDh/s640/blogger-image-1008986025.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfl7nKkBcx606EIqukA26M9Fy3LSFt5mdWXfvBp8F6bw7k79CgzhhD49VfzE5gpcIv5y0fnCriyX8Zy_c_INtnt85pJnybLWXT1ATjdvdMdMvSTc9rGXaCCMdGF-eKUJq2wvhK2J8opb8x/s640/blogger-image-191904659.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfl7nKkBcx606EIqukA26M9Fy3LSFt5mdWXfvBp8F6bw7k79CgzhhD49VfzE5gpcIv5y0fnCriyX8Zy_c_INtnt85pJnybLWXT1ATjdvdMdMvSTc9rGXaCCMdGF-eKUJq2wvhK2J8opb8x/s640/blogger-image-191904659.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1vJ2VpjIaz0fGYJMdKJU4fGTR99alPWZ6_7_eVUBVTCJhPO2mlTja5c_KeBIRp92jsaQoxiwj6rFu_r_3GRU7OAM9hQUzZPNoo0qAR9fBZ-Eiodtq4oPvQ19y2auAbfw239xUQPDc4Ln/s640/blogger-image--600938795.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1vJ2VpjIaz0fGYJMdKJU4fGTR99alPWZ6_7_eVUBVTCJhPO2mlTja5c_KeBIRp92jsaQoxiwj6rFu_r_3GRU7OAM9hQUzZPNoo0qAR9fBZ-Eiodtq4oPvQ19y2auAbfw239xUQPDc4Ln/s640/blogger-image--600938795.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ip0cumKHMCisbD4peuBRaW6Nui480fu072Bx_8zld0_96X3equppndlYZbl1JKswZg4CabC9JFHfbocY0CN8OKf6XzxEztHd0vJ3axl7ps_lCjlNNonSozG8W-p1oN3PxaRWjwsmU7NC/s640/blogger-image-449376440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ip0cumKHMCisbD4peuBRaW6Nui480fu072Bx_8zld0_96X3equppndlYZbl1JKswZg4CabC9JFHfbocY0CN8OKf6XzxEztHd0vJ3axl7ps_lCjlNNonSozG8W-p1oN3PxaRWjwsmU7NC/s640/blogger-image-449376440.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Vav8iFU88OEWHjd_5inmq6fNVR9PlQuwq2_RAnQ-ruMUCGEpp1Akgia6PTaClUzSatlXFlz_781rRoj-b4U71dXcNVjr7GOI4IRP-0KWIoP04qvjepEwE38zBCNTiZB-86bF3ifa5Zqp/s640/blogger-image-329155421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Vav8iFU88OEWHjd_5inmq6fNVR9PlQuwq2_RAnQ-ruMUCGEpp1Akgia6PTaClUzSatlXFlz_781rRoj-b4U71dXcNVjr7GOI4IRP-0KWIoP04qvjepEwE38zBCNTiZB-86bF3ifa5Zqp/s640/blogger-image-329155421.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs04Ux8g2xWTd3STZn23Px1GV6JovkxbWnevS_1ByaolMuH_zmyagtCVY4iinL6A5YiyVYQRlkTUM71H8_V9SbsYHaBwTBEQ0HftV7rDjDEEtrg5zvRee7AdJiRd_CkelkIwapxrm3uGxn/s640/blogger-image-722584719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs04Ux8g2xWTd3STZn23Px1GV6JovkxbWnevS_1ByaolMuH_zmyagtCVY4iinL6A5YiyVYQRlkTUM71H8_V9SbsYHaBwTBEQ0HftV7rDjDEEtrg5zvRee7AdJiRd_CkelkIwapxrm3uGxn/s640/blogger-image-722584719.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDTi29pFPL1LK-HYc_JGLAmPatfZaGKQ2NqbGnguS1clyxf7XuRFgnUPk3qHJG7ID59RZjnJqZVeeUPmaWowgk5GB2HI1ddHWWNyTBQ3m_ZcK8fUh-n67MUKt2xZOkxO-NQCzsr8OWe4P/s640/blogger-image-298976941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBDTi29pFPL1LK-HYc_JGLAmPatfZaGKQ2NqbGnguS1clyxf7XuRFgnUPk3qHJG7ID59RZjnJqZVeeUPmaWowgk5GB2HI1ddHWWNyTBQ3m_ZcK8fUh-n67MUKt2xZOkxO-NQCzsr8OWe4P/s640/blogger-image-298976941.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD_0qbavAaDRrVt6Th40j5Y5E2i9BpKbqKtUw9kFX9LS3WtRPFLkYmxJZjLZG_NlUpWWZAhv5o8Kg9QRojiZO4Vd_x5qX_U6ZG7YJrrlxWF0XPVjobz2VJaZIf0Q7cwXpOKf_gOdGA6ndK/s640/blogger-image-1571415431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD_0qbavAaDRrVt6Th40j5Y5E2i9BpKbqKtUw9kFX9LS3WtRPFLkYmxJZjLZG_NlUpWWZAhv5o8Kg9QRojiZO4Vd_x5qX_U6ZG7YJrrlxWF0XPVjobz2VJaZIf0Q7cwXpOKf_gOdGA6ndK/s640/blogger-image-1571415431.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0biST9xzmxSbgP4i9W8VjnOotSyV7FZgNnb1hLTrzt2K0HKOXOLQFkO8GTZyVr1FSg5_RIP6G4pqGvxnqwfebePx3JfGA38_xpPEqH957pGDReSVp7ulO9cg_CBC8Qer7SSi7eWgsZ6R5/s640/blogger-image--1715069923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0biST9xzmxSbgP4i9W8VjnOotSyV7FZgNnb1hLTrzt2K0HKOXOLQFkO8GTZyVr1FSg5_RIP6G4pqGvxnqwfebePx3JfGA38_xpPEqH957pGDReSVp7ulO9cg_CBC8Qer7SSi7eWgsZ6R5/s640/blogger-image--1715069923.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></span></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-79900254228815694932017-08-09T17:54:00.001-07:002017-08-09T17:54:40.580-07:00The Story of Patrick Frank<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This blog may be a little redundant because I've said a lot of this before but I'm going to write it because as a mom, I can't help but travel down memory lane on my children's birthdays. <br><br>When I stop to think about how Patrick came to be, I realize how much of a miracle he really is. After struggling to conceive Hartley, I never thought I would experience a spontaneous pregnancy. I thought I was "broken", honestly. <br><br>I remember feeling pregnant on Friday December 5th, 2014. We were scheduled to have a morning play date and then have neighbors over for drinks in the evening. I woke up nauseous and sweaty, and I literally felt pregnant. I knew I couldn't be and thought it had to be the flu. So I cancelled the play date but I ran out to Target to buy a pregnancy test to rule that out. Yep, right on the conveyer next to my wine because of the drinks with neighbors. I had specifically picked to buy my test at Target because they don't have those horribly awkward plastic cases you need to ask someone to unlock. The devil - but, I digress. The thing I hadn't accounted for was how weird it must've looked. I had an infant, wine and a pregnancy test. <br><br>When I got home, I took the test right away. And I could not believe my eyes. I remember standing in my bathroom just in utter disbelief. I called Brian, and he was shocked. I'll never forget him just saying "what?", over and over. It was a very joyous thing. We were very happy but it didn't make any sense to us. I choose to believe (in a very cliche Hallmark channel kind of way) that it was a Christmas miracle. <br><br>I scheduled my first doctor's appointment for shortly before Christmas. Once we were doctor confirmed, we'd tell our families at Christmas. <br><br>Only, our excitement, very quickly turned into anxiety and disappointment. At my first doctors appointment they confirmed I was pregnant. But the baby measured small, and they couldn't find a heartbeat. They also found a blood clot in my uterus. All in all, things did not look promising. And about a week or so before Christmas, which was Hartley's first Christmas, I was told to go home and take it easy. I was told I was in a state of threatened miscarriage, I should go home, be easy on my body, and be prepared to lose my baby. I should call them when I started to cramp or bleed. Otherwise they'd see me for a follow up ultrasound after Christmas. <br><br>I wish I could lie and say I stayed positive but I genuinely thought I was going to lose the baby. I was really sad. This baby wasn't one that I'd begged God for for years but I loved it already. <br><br>Hartley took her first steps. We celebrated Christmas. I tried not to think about what was going on but I pretty much thought about it every second. <br><br>Shortly after Christmas, we went back to the doctor. They did the ultrasound first thing. And sure enough, we heard that beautiful thump thump thumping of his heart right away. He was still there, and he was growing. He heartbeat was perfect. The clot was still there, too. So with a wiggly 10 month old at home, I was placed on modified bed rest. There's nothing they can do for these clots so they tell you to be safe, and you have to hope for the best. They would do ultrasounds every 10 days to see how things looked. <br><br>My mom actually went with me to my 14 week appointment while my dad watched Hartley. Each appointment I went to I knew bad news was an option so sometimes if I could have someone come with me, I did. <br><br>That day they said the clot had shrunk. It was also the day I found out Patrick was a boy. I didn't find out in an elaborate way like I did with Hartley. I really wasn't in a space to do a cake or some Pinterest-worthy reveal. But it was beautiful. My mom was there. My favorite nurse told me she wasn't allowed to show me my panorama test results but she couldn't stop me if I looked at the computer and saw on my own. I read on the screen "MALE", and I bawled happy tears. I said to the nurse that several years ago I thought I might not have a daughter or a son, and how lucky was I that I now get to have both. I was so elated. <br><br>We revealed his name on Facebook - Patrick Godfrey (my maiden name). <br><br>My pregnancy had little bumps along the way. I have massive anxiety at the end. The idea that I was going to be juggling an 18 month old and a newborn was terrifying to me. At the end, I wanted him to come on his induction day because I didn't felt ready; I needed every last day to get ready. But in true Patrick fashion, he surprised me. A week before my due date, I went to bed after popping an Ambien. So when I woke up <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://2" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="2">at 1 am</a> in a puddle, I was in a mental fog. I apologized to Brian for wetting the bed - and then I realized, my water had just broke. I was in labor. <br><br>Things got far more emotional. When I was laboring in the hospital, I learned my grandmother had passed away in her sleep. I remember my mom saying through tears that she was probably taking her last breaths around the time my water broke. It's something that gives me chills to this day. <br><br>I still remember all the details of that day, and how I learned about my grandma. I remember my mom knew before I did, and we listened to this Garth Brooks song about meeting your mom in my delivery room. I was crying. My mom was crying. And I was surprised my mom was crying but I didn't know at the time that she'd just lost her own mother. <br><br>I remember after finding out my Yaya had passed, I told my mom that she didn't have to stay. And she told me there was no place she'd rather be. She told me that Yaya was there with us in the delivery room to make sure everything went safely and smoothly.<br><br>After 45 minutes of pushing, I felt that beautiful feeling of relief, and my mom shouted out, "He's here!" Patrick was born <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://3" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="3">at 7 pm</a> on the dot. I still remember bawling as I held him for the first time. I told him how beautiful he was and that I loved him. <br><br>We changed his name to Patrick Frank to honor my Grandmother Carryl Page Frank, whom I am also named after. I feel like he will always have a connection to her. And I feel like him being born on the day she passed has some very special meaning. <br><br>Whenever I stop to really think about Patrick, I think about all of this. I think about (and I'm sorry, this is cheesy) how he restored my faith. He was this baby who surprised us, and he seemed so determined to stick around and grow and join us. And now I know why, he truly was this wonderful, silly, happy missing piece of our family puzzle that was so beautifully meant to be. I really never knew how much I needed him, and now I literally can't imagine life with out him. <br><br>I always said if he had a slogan it would be: "I'm just happy to be here." <br><br>Patrick Frank, <br><br>At two, you are a man of few words (they are coming in though!) but you're never short on personality. You're hopelessly flirty. You tend to remind us an excited puppy. You freely hand out kisses and hand fives. And you are fiercely close to your sister, who has become your little partner in crime. You still love to be tickled and snuggles. Life is all about cars, trucks and stop signs. You are pure joy. We love you beyond measure. <br></span>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-19702205352544417632017-07-31T18:35:00.001-07:002017-07-31T18:35:24.141-07:00Burnt out but figuring it out<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I think in all the years I've had this blog I haven't written much about myself. I did write about my struggle with infertility and my journey through pregnancy. Then the last three and a half years, my children have been the subject matter on this writing space, and I like it that way. <br><br>But in the past couple years I've had a couple close friends blog about their struggles with anxiety and or depression. When I read what they wrote I felt like their words rang so true to me. I want to write about it but this could easily end up a novel. Well, I'll go for it anyway, a so hear shorter version. I seriously don't even know where to begin though. <br><br>Ok, I'll start with the night I called 911. Brian had been gone longer than normal that week; he was on jury duty. When he would come home, he'd help put the kids to bed, and then he'd get on his own computer and do work. It was obviously a very long, difficult week for him. But it was for me, too. It felt pretty isolating to spend a long week only really communicating with toddlers. I couldn't talk to Brian over text during the day like I usually can, and he didn't have time to talk to me in the evening. I'd already been starting to feel the weight of the 50-60 hours a week I spent solo with our almost 2 and 3 year old so far this summer. Terrible two's and tyrannical threes are not terms I love but maybe it helps to give understanding to those unfamiliar with the age group. And also, those ages make for a rough combination. And then that week happened.<br><br>It wore my out pretty badly.<br><br>Well the last day of the trial Brian would get home much later than the kids bedtime. I headed up to my bathroom to grab some trash to take out to the garage. I had sat the kids at the kitchen table, each with a stack of Ritz crackers. As I come back downstairs a couple minutes later, Hartley is throwing up crackers. It looks like she's foaming at the mouth. She's coughing and coughing. Then she begins to scream bloody murder. That's a relief because I know she's breathing but she's wailing. Grabbing her throat, grabbing her stomach. Shouting, "yucky cracker!" to me. She won't stop screaming and crying. I'm already fried, I have no husband to be my rock in this situation. I'm asking her questions to try to assess the situation, and she can't respond with words, only shrieking. I frantically call my mom and she doesn't answer. I text Brian that I have an emergency, and he calls my dad, who calls me. My dad will come over but says I should call 911 if I'm really worried. I decide I won't but then I see amidst the shrieking and gagging that blood is starting to come up with Hartley's saliva, and I call 911. The dispatcher can hear Hartley completely distraught in the background, and she tells us she's sending out paramedics right away. <br><br>Long story slightly less long, the paramedics deemed Hartley okay. But I stood in my foyer with them unable to hold back the tears as they rolled down my cheeks. It came up that I had an almost 2 year old in addition to Hartley. I had stowed him in his crib while the paramedics were there to keep the scene slightly calmer. Both of the paramedics, who were parents themselves, looked at me with utter empathy. "Wow, two and three, huh? That's - that's a lot. Go you, Mom." <br><br>But that was the moment it really came to a head. This summer I've had a mouse infestation in my car, that left me housebound with the kids a few times. Brian has been doing lots of schmoozing for work in the evenings, making for very long days at home with no extra hands to help. Patrick is learning how to assert himself just as Hartley is beginning to experiment with pushing his buttons. And I have felt exhausted every single day. Pretty much every day I rev myself up with coffee, in the evenings I take the edge off with wine, and at night, I go for a sleeping pill to stop my racing, overtired mind. And while I have felt burnt out and like a failure, I push those feelings down as far as they can go because right now, my family needs me, and I don't have time to take better care of myself. <br><br>I want Brian to get to do whatever he needs to do for work to further his career and achieve all the goals he has for himself. I want my kids to be happy and entertained and feel loved and secure. And even though there are things I've wanted for myself, I don't really think to much about it because I'm pretty busy thinking about my family and what I can or should do for them. Brian never fails to tell me that he appreciates all I do, and that I am the person who keeps everything running (somewhat) smoothly for our family. <br><br>But around the time of the mouse nest in the van, work entertaining, jury duty, and calling 911 for the infamous yucky cracker, I realized I was starting to fray. You see, I've started to fray before but managed to bandaid fix it with an evening bath, Chinese take out or a run to Target by myself. But this time, I was fraying, and I realized I couldn't use a band aid. No coffee, wine or sleep aid was going to fix my problem. In fact, in some divine clarity, I realized these things were probably making all of my exhaustion worst, and probably taking a horrible toll on my already beyond neglected body. <br><br>I thought about something that would help me, it has to be feasible. Brian has to go to work. He has to go to these Top Golf events and baseball games (it's a pretty rough gig, guys!) I have to take care of my two young kids, who I'm trying to discipline but they will struggle with inside voices, tantrums, hitting and making the craziest, stickiest messes. This is my chapter - that I will mention, I don't hate but it takes a lot of patience and energy, both of which are depleted lately. <br><br>So I got online, did some research, and emailed a gym about membership costs. A gym with fantastic childcare. That was what I wanted. For three and a half years, my children have been like my extremities. I have rarely done anything without them, and I have never ever left them with a babysitter. I have left them with relatives but outside family or preschool for Hartley this past year, they have never been left. I'm pretty sure that's not healthy. Both of my kids are "mama kids". This summer, since Hartley's been out of school, she has become my shadow. She follows me when I change my clothes, use the bathroom and shower. While it is sweet, I can't convey quite what it feels like to never be alone. <br><br>When I emailed for the price quote and went to pitch the idea to Brian, I felt embarrassed. I felt really embarrassed to tell my own husband (who I can tell anything to) that I was having trouble. Physically, mentally and emotionally I was having trouble functioning, and I felt this overwhelming urge to save myself. Like I had been treading water, and I was tired of treading and wanted to take back some control. Some tiny semblance of self. <br><br>And Brian didn't even think for a second. He told me it was a fantastic idea. He told me how much it would be good for all of us. <br><br>I walked in for a consult. I dropped the kids off, and I ran out of the kids club like an ex con breaking out of prison. Sorry, it's horrible but I wanted to rip it off like a band aid. I sat in a consultation office there across from a beautiful, svelte girl who had just graduated college. She sized me up, my squishy body in my pathetic makeshift gym clothes. She asked me how much weight I wanted to lose and how quickly. I muddled through my response trying to explain I just wanted to feel healthy again. I'm pretty sure that didn't make any sense to her. So I told her 20 pounds by Christmas and handed over my credit card. <br><br>So I don't know exactly the point of writing this. I don't know if a gym can fix me. But I'll say my first full week of membership, I went four times. I felt the best I have since maybe even before Hartley was born. I had two days that I didn't even have a cup of coffee! I drank four glasses of wine that week (two for The Bachelorette and two for Friday at home movie date night). I took ZERO sleep aids. And two nights I fell asleep <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1">at 9pm</a>! <br><br>I don't know if other moms feel guilty because they hit a wall and feel like they need to do something for themselves. After three and a half years, I hit my wall. I felt guilt. I felt embarrassment. I felt weak. And in that office, across from that Miss America, I felt like a pathetic, walking cliche. But getting past those feelings, and starting to feel good, I'm feeling less shame. And who knows, maybe I'll lose 20 pounds by Christmas ;) <br></span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></span><br style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-42469228329037182402017-06-15T11:59:00.001-07:002017-06-15T11:59:26.886-07:00<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Tomorrow is the last day of preschool for Hartley before summer break, and this whole week I've been feeling "all the feels", as they say. It's wonderfully bittersweet. While I am over the moon to have her home for summer, I look back on this past school year so happy, so grateful and so immensely proud. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRRdh386MypTKurN6Iq2AtO60KaybTTpKGnS4SWn-UCsJJyKAyp5h0pJNMTOiGgnRw_1pDUNCZPU8la9gVD5OmLXrDZVPanAxcAdVVlHBX5YkT8cC9d_uvaMr1lplWYRJK52N9XTejrUl/s640/blogger-image-957163028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRRdh386MypTKurN6Iq2AtO60KaybTTpKGnS4SWn-UCsJJyKAyp5h0pJNMTOiGgnRw_1pDUNCZPU8la9gVD5OmLXrDZVPanAxcAdVVlHBX5YkT8cC9d_uvaMr1lplWYRJK52N9XTejrUl/s640/blogger-image-957163028.jpg"></a></div><br>I can still remember the road that got us here. I remember crying right before Hartley turned two when a doctor told us she was "behind". Up until that point I was a woman who was blissfully unaware of what it was like to have your child's development scrutinized. I entered into a world I knew almost nothing about. I'll never forget driving home from an Infant Toddler Connection assessment where they told Brian and I that Hartley could qualify for special education preschool through the county. And I remember telling him that I did not want Hartley to attend special education preschool. I remember thinking she would have a speech therapist work with her, and that would be that. She would eventually go to community preschool and all of this would just be a faded memory soon enough. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUxBF5KriQQesi281N0q2gptasy_CUUKAcL8bYA2ZXm6JUJWMtW6elf_xp2EG4eLD1g0FMJjC5lHylf3lygBunjH4X-wf8DjQ_7TnlP7j7QQgsXxMuZczvi4VWl8RYqV8dZexQP0HsaVo/s640/blogger-image--832202043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUxBF5KriQQesi281N0q2gptasy_CUUKAcL8bYA2ZXm6JUJWMtW6elf_xp2EG4eLD1g0FMJjC5lHylf3lygBunjH4X-wf8DjQ_7TnlP7j7QQgsXxMuZczvi4VWl8RYqV8dZexQP0HsaVo/s640/blogger-image--832202043.jpg"></a></div><br><br>I don't look back and think that I was ignorant. I don't look back and think I was unaware of what was going on. Every time someone attempted to comfort me by saying Hartley would "catch up", the words cut me because, as her mother, I knew it wasn't a "language delay". For God's sake, my daughter knew the alphabet in and out of context by the time she was 18 months. Before two, she was counting to 20. She knew her colors, animals, shapes. You name it - she knew it or could learn it almost instantly. But we couldn't get her to answer to her name. We couldn't get her to follow a one step direction or answer the most simple questions. <br><br>But there was still something about the idea of my child being special ed that I was uncomfortable with. That's so horrible and not politically correct but in the beginning, that's where I was. <br><br>As those assessments and meetings and times of talking to professionals added up, and when the words "autism spectrum" started popping up on the radar more and more, things changed a lot for me. I went from a mom who just wanted everything to be typical to a mom who just wanted help for her child. I remember at the end of last summer feeling a lot of desperation and helplessness. I didn't want people to know that that was how I felt but it was. I felt in my heart of hearts that preschool was the answer for Hartley. <br><br>That was also a feeling that evolved so much. In the beginning I wanted anything but special ed preschool and in the end all I wanted was a start date. <br><br>From that start date, the changes in Hartley's development felt almost instant. We noticed progress within the first few weeks. I'll never ever forget after a few weeks of school, we went out to dinner Brian, the kids and I, and Hartley said a couple purposeful sentences. I cried that night. It felt so good to hear my child do more than just labeling. Hearing her thoughts after she synthesized information for the first time was so cool. <br><br>It just kept getting better and better.<br><br>I remember writing holiday cards for Hartley's teachers and thanking them for allowing to be able to enjoy my daughter in a whole new way that holiday season. <br><br>I will never ever take for granted being able to ask my child questions and having her answer me. As time went on I could even ask her what she did in school or who she played with, and she could tell me.<br><br>With each progress report that came home, there were higher scores indicating her getting closer and closer to mastering the goals on her IEP. <br><br>And not to mention, everyone who saw Hartley regularly before she started school has noted the very noticeable change. As I wrote in my last blog, her developmental pediatrician said she's never seen anything like it.<br><br>The past few weeks, she is talking up a storm. It's so fantastic. Even driving through a parking lot, she'll be in her car seat telling me about the different stores we're passing. What they sell and if it's a store or a restaurant. She plays pretend restaurant with stuffed animals, and it's adorable. She also uses these skills at the playground with playmates. Even though she still doesn't always know exactly how to engage kids, she always tries to. She follows them around and is now making fast friends wherever we go. It's been so much fun to watch. Last weekend she "played baseball" with a group of three brothers at the park. She also played tag with another group of boys when we went out to get ice cream. And when the boy's parents called them to leave, they went over to Hartley and said bye to her. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGOZ2pJipH1qPiurA-U0Np14tVpb1IF3p61J-A4tLDOPw75w1ZiyS7v4-BDvul9zzhG4o2xzgVqqg_rJaLjVHOU8agvFKQmiLg1f2d4fmXf1_AA2HfWZQyM8xKvHiODfjT8no_F1IDxhG/s640/blogger-image-99611902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGOZ2pJipH1qPiurA-U0Np14tVpb1IF3p61J-A4tLDOPw75w1ZiyS7v4-BDvul9zzhG4o2xzgVqqg_rJaLjVHOU8agvFKQmiLg1f2d4fmXf1_AA2HfWZQyM8xKvHiODfjT8no_F1IDxhG/s640/blogger-image-99611902.jpg"></a></div><br><br>She tells me everything lately. What she likes and loves and needs or wants. She asks me questions. She also loves to tell people she likes their outfits, and that they are beautiful. The other day I got home from bathing suit shopping, and Hartley found my shopping bag. She pulled out my new suit and said, "Wow, mama! Your new baby suit is beautiful!" Those priceless moments make me feel like I could easily keep her as a three year old forever. I mean, she tells me I'm beautiful in my pajamas! All the heart eye emoticons to that. <br><br>Outside of Hartley's development, I feel like her starting school was great for Patrick and I, too. While I did and do miss having her around, it was the first time I got to really have one on one time with Patrick. That really allowed us to bond. It also really allowed him to come into his own, I think. When I had both of them home his role was more just being in tow and tagging along, and that shifted once he and I starting having our many "mother son dates". <br><br>I also found that school finally gave me a defined schedule, which I had actually greatly been missing since becoming a stay at home mom. Some days it's been pretty stressful to get them both ready for the day and out of the door for drop off by a certain time but it's given us structure that keeps me much more sane. It also got me into the habit of going out many different places with Patrick this spring. Since I already had him loaded into the car we'd almost always go somewhere after drop off. Although, since this has been my life <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0">Monday through Friday</a> since the beginning of October I am looking forward to having some mornings this summer where we hang at home in our pajamas ;)<br><br>I also feel so lucky for Hartley's wonderful teachers. You seriously could not find a nicer, more patient group of people on the planet. They are amazing at their jobs. I can't believe the crafts and activities they do with the kids - everything from yoga to sensory tables to crafts for any and all occasions. They organized a fun field trip to a local nature center that I got to chaperone. We had a blast as a family at their "water day". </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9TX4qH_cuG1GgrBfXbhuV8TfxZFlqawDOsJepGRjf42l64M-dPgLiOfUwHqpXjlvTn8grEPyOrE5A7Yn6pxTd83hlL1M0nVOUSV4vBlScpsuceXPdNbdLt8L8RPR_J1Op8XhvT4BqFwM/s640/blogger-image-2018326286.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9TX4qH_cuG1GgrBfXbhuV8TfxZFlqawDOsJepGRjf42l64M-dPgLiOfUwHqpXjlvTn8grEPyOrE5A7Yn6pxTd83hlL1M0nVOUSV4vBlScpsuceXPdNbdLt8L8RPR_J1Op8XhvT4BqFwM/s640/blogger-image-2018326286.jpg"></a></div><br>At water day I got to talk to each of Hartley's teachers, each told me what amazing progress she's made. I had to hold back tears as I thanked them. I told them that we truly could not be any more grateful for what they've done for our daughter and our family. I will always truly believe that this program will have changed my daughter's life because it laid down the very best foundation she could possibly have. <br><br>Our experience with Hartley attending preschool has been so positive that we actually decided to enroll Patrick in preschool two mornings a week next fall. Originally I felt he would be too young but after I see all it's done for Hartley, I'm hoping Patrick has the same experience, and it helps him continue to grow and develop, too! <br><br>Well that was long and all sorts of rambled but I felt like an ode to preschool was in order. I'm so happy for Hartley to have had such a wonderful school year, and I'm pretty excited for summer break to finally be here!</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqpXZp2KnkiLLjlxVldFuJ1RZZTIbo5V2UDbMA9wKsFMdUR7VrJXfXtzuorCLabijyz7Onv7AM4TQwxAX-f_OF2paOVwTCRbeHK0qV8QxrsLn2eG52mbyNdyDbKkICVtNLx5w3fuT594Ed/s640/blogger-image-164261008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqpXZp2KnkiLLjlxVldFuJ1RZZTIbo5V2UDbMA9wKsFMdUR7VrJXfXtzuorCLabijyz7Onv7AM4TQwxAX-f_OF2paOVwTCRbeHK0qV8QxrsLn2eG52mbyNdyDbKkICVtNLx5w3fuT594Ed/s640/blogger-image-164261008.jpg"></a></div></span></div></div></div></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-10833726432108348442017-03-28T08:10:00.001-07:002017-03-28T08:16:16.758-07:00Progress<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Yesterday we took Hartley for her follow up appointment at Children's Hospital with her Developmental Pediatrician. Brian and I talked the night before how, for once, we weren't dreading an appointment because we could plainly see all of the phenomenal progress Hartley has made since starting school. <br><br>When we got there the doctor could see the change within the first few minutes; it is that noticeable! And maybe 30 minutes into the appointment she told us that Hartley's amazing transformation, in such a short period of time, was the best she's seen in her eight years of working. Brian and I already knew that her progress has been nothing short of incredible. We went from an appointment in the fall where she wouldn't respond to her name, wouldn't give eye contact, and wouldn't answer questions to having a child who could do almost everything that was asked of her. <br><br>I said to the doctor that I think Hartley's teachers are miracle workers. That's seriously how I view them. Her doctor said that while she's sure Hartley has wonderful teachers, not to discount Hartley. She said that even back last fall we knew Hartley was very bright. The fact that she is very intelligent and very willing also deserves credit for her great progress. When I think of it that way, it kind of makes me realize she had all of this inside of her, and her teachers and school seemed to be the magic key to unlock it for us. There will never, ever be words to express how grateful I am for that, and how much I truly believe that early intervention is a life-changing tool for children like Hartley. <br><br>For now, her doctor still thinks Hartley's Autism Spectrum diagnosis is still appropriate for her. She is making incredible strides but her social communication skills are still not completely in line with what you'd typically see for a girl her age. The doctor did said, however, that she could foresee Hartley progressing to a point where a Social Communication Disorder diagnosis would be more appropriate or even possibly someday outgrowing any sort of diagnosis! <br><br>For us, we don't get too caught up in worrying about diagnoses or labels. In the beginning her ASD diagnosis was helpful to me because it felt like an explanation for some of her eccentricities. Now it's helpful because it is giving her access to these services that are helping her so much. However, I can't lie and say that I wasn't excited at that though that Hartley could be in the small percentage of young children that do outgrow their ASD diagnosis. <br><br>She gave us our homework. Someday I'll come on here and elaborate about this. I kind of wish I'd documented from the beginning the various tips and exercises that we've been given throughout the last year or so. I actually think it would be helpful to look back on for ideas of things to do with Patrick! <br><br>And Hartley will be seen again at Children's downtown office in the fall after school starts to do more in depth diagnostic testing. I love how thorough this doctor is. Something Brian and I vowed when we first heard that Hartley was "behind" (doctor's words, not ours) last winter was that we would never allow Hartley to slip through the cracks. We vowed that we would take her to receive whatever testing she needed, and we would follow up to get her whatever help she needed, and we would do all that we could. Now that Hartley is getting better, we will still forge on with the same attitude; she's getting better BECAUSE of these professionals and services. Her doctor said that yesterday. She likened it to antidepressants. She said if someone starts taking antidepressants and they feel better, it doesn't mean they shouldn't continue on with treatment because it is the treatment that's making them better. Hartley's services through the county and her doctor are making her better, but that definitely doesn't mean she shouldn't continue with them. <br><br>All in all, this appointment wasn't exactly new information. As Hartley's mom, and the world's leading Hartley expert, I already knew that she had drastically improved since her last appointment. But there's nothing like a doctor at a renowned children's hospital be blown away by the progress you've been lucky enough to witness. <br><br>If I could talk to me back in September, the woman wiping away tears while she heard her daughter receive her "official" diagnosis, I would give her the biggest hug. If I were to tell her it would all be okay, she wouldn't have believed me. She loved/loves her child so much that she couldn't help but worry for her. But I would tell her that next spring her daughter would be able to tell her about her favorite things and her feelings. I would tell her that Hartley would grow to become the absolute best big sister, so maternal. I would tell her that Hartley would engage her! She would ask her to come to the playroom to have a tea party! I would tell her Hartley would be picking out her outfits and her snacks. That she would put on her own rain boots and proudly boast, "Mama, I did it!" All of those little things that so many parents out there are wishing and praying for, I get to have every day. <br><br>It is never, ever lost on me how lucky Brian and I are. I know that it's a beautiful combination of hard work from lots of various people in our lives including ourselves and our little girl, and someone up above looking out for us.</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6OWdtldFaKt4n5dm_8Wh9FnkqlF6JomVgxhz-aRwwlhEMYZOjSbQD3CZvCA_dOQIWBeoGdR6i5o_JjR2aucBdDQ9GGfjhYEkrwewu2zMB1DF8ha9UMqNSXaBk7heGgjW0ZJ4n3zGyyuGn/s640/blogger-image--1347071430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6OWdtldFaKt4n5dm_8Wh9FnkqlF6JomVgxhz-aRwwlhEMYZOjSbQD3CZvCA_dOQIWBeoGdR6i5o_JjR2aucBdDQ9GGfjhYEkrwewu2zMB1DF8ha9UMqNSXaBk7heGgjW0ZJ4n3zGyyuGn/s640/blogger-image--1347071430.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-5765134569919493062017-03-18T13:41:00.001-07:002017-03-18T14:00:10.044-07:00Baby Ballet<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">A week ago I was on Facebook and the picture that popped up on my "On This Day" feature was a picture of Hartley at her very first ballet class. I remembered like it was yesterday how hard it was to take that picture. She was beaming because the teacher had given her a purple foam sticker on her hand for a great first class. We, however, didn't actually have a great first class.</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbZU-F-d3IhgCbCEh0dQwHmhF8y9Hkgwh3he6rQ7Re_Cy3tz9zlkUWnbAIOrt5K9Pj69xtN_GRxGpYaFc6qaph6Ov45hmCdx42yuAJsQD7ZEjEQN1bSBlcBK20uM8-zf4pAGB2GrYXk6-/s640/blogger-image-1276177870.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbZU-F-d3IhgCbCEh0dQwHmhF8y9Hkgwh3he6rQ7Re_Cy3tz9zlkUWnbAIOrt5K9Pj69xtN_GRxGpYaFc6qaph6Ov45hmCdx42yuAJsQD7ZEjEQN1bSBlcBK20uM8-zf4pAGB2GrYXk6-/s640/blogger-image-1276177870.jpg"></a></div><br>Hartley was so excited to go to ballet that day. But as soon as we got there, that changed. It was a new setting with new faces, and she wanted to go home. She clung to me like a tree frog for the entire class. So I galloped and her hopped and danced with her little leotard clad body plastered right against mine. From time to time she would cry. Conservatively she cried at least a quarter of the class. I wanted to cry. I wanted to just storm out and go home. But I didn't. I stayed as calm as I could. I comforted her as my tired body did the moves that all the tiny ballerinas were attempting alongside their moms; I was doing it with the added weight of my 2 year old on my hip. <br><br>I remember talking on the phone with my mom after the class about how I was going to give it a couple more classes at least but my true goal was to make it to every session unless we were sick. But I cried. I knew Hartley was one of the youngest in the class. She wasn't the youngest because another mom of a sweet little blonde girl confessed to me that she signed up for the class even though her daughter was just shy of turning two. <br>I also knew that being a Saturday class there were probably some working moms in the bunch, and their daughters had a leg up on being in a "classroom setting" at daycare. So I knew I couldn't expect Hartley to exactly be in the upper echelon of the class. But Hartley stood out in class like a sore thumb. She was the only one who cried, the only one who had to be carried the majority of the class. She was the only one who couldn't even attempt most of the moves. <br><br>Now before you think I'm being tough on her, that not all girls are cut out for dance - this class wasn't/isn't about "dancing" for me. Sure, I think it's wonderful to expose even the youngest of children to the arts & sports but these classes are mainly to learn other skills. You learn social skills, being in a structured environment, following directions, respectful behavior. Heck, Hartley took swimming lessons as an infant. That wasn't about her learning how to swim. It was her getting acclimated to a new environment (the water) and new people/faces. I've heard parents say classes like these are pointless because the child isn't learning the actual skill that young but that's not why we do these activities with our kids. Hartley has taken swimming lessons, music classes, ballet & basketball - not to be a prodigy but to try new things and socialize. <br><br>I'm also not saying that I expected my two year old to obediently follow directions like some perfect little solider either but I'll admit, I was a little surprised just how much we stood out. <br><br>Each class got a little better than the one before. I only had to carry her about half the duration of the second class, and she only cried a couple times. Most of the girls weren't being carried at all and none of the other girls cried. The first handful of sessions of my goals for her didn't have much to do with following directions - mainly just to walk on her own and not have any meltdowns. <br><br>As time went on, I'd push to have her maybe try a few moves throughout class. Usually me contorting her body into a stretch unless she fought me greatly. <br><br>I'd find the songs from class on YouTube and try to get her to practice at home. I got her to practice the forward roll at home. She eventually did it during class with help but I was the only parent who had to walk up each class to stand next to their child and help them. The teacher actually pulled me off to the side one day and told me what a great job I was doing; she could see us getting better each class. Our goals were very different from the other mother daughter pairs but we were accomplishing them little by little! <br><br>One day I was sick and couldn't attend so I sent Brian in my place. I was surprised when they were home so soon after leaving the house. Brian said Hartley kept trying to run out of the room, and when he'd bring her back in she would cry. He said it was awful so they only made it about 15 minutes before throwing in the towel. I knew what he was talking about because that happened in the beginning for me, too. The next week the teacher told me that Hartley was much more comfortable with me than with Brian so we should stick with me bringing her. <br><br>Now, we were making progress but when I say we stood out - I mean that. We did. I wasn't always okay with that either. This was a chapter in my life when there was a big part of me knew something wasn't quite right, and there was another big part of me that wasn't willing to accept that. <br><br>Well, her "recital" ended up being one of the hardest moments of parenthood for me to date. It was terrible. All of the progress we'd seemed to have made over 12 weeks disappeared on the day that family members were invited to watch our class routine. It wasn't just "not following directions", it was running around interrupting all of the other girls trying to dance and focus. The other girls were accepting their certificates. Their proud dads snapping pictures of their perfect ballerinas standing with the teacher and beaming for the camera. And my daughter entered the scene like a tornado taking down anything in her path. She ran in front of the girls as their parents were trying to capture the moment. She'd throw herself in front of them on the mat and wouldn't get up. So I'd run and pick up her thrashing body. She'd be laughing like a mad man or shouting. <br><br>Before they could even call Hartley's name to get her certificate, I did it - I stormed out of the classroom for the first time. I absolutely couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't be the calm, patient mom anymore because what she was doing was no longer just a trivial annoyance. She was ruining things for the other girls in her class, and I wasn't okay with that. Brian and Patrick followed us out of the room. Once we were all in the van and the doors were closed - I bawled. It was like I finally just hit this wall, and everything came out. <br><br>And I'll never ever forget what I said to Brian in the car. I said, "do those people think I'm the world's worst mother or do you think they can tell?" <br><br>"They can tell, Page." <br><br>I think after 12 weeks of seeing her around peers - seeing where we were and where they were, I knew. And even though I said on the ride home I would never do another baby ballet class ever again, I went home and researched adaptive ballet for children on the autism spectrum. I didn't want my daughter not to get to do something just because it was harder for her. Alas, there are no adaptive ballet classes offered in our area. I'll never forget the amount of frustration and helplessness I felt that day. <br><br>And yes, over something as silly as baby ballet. But I said it before, it wasn't ballet. How was she ever going to learn to focus or listen or follow a direction? How was she going to learn to partner with a classmate or take turns or sit still when she needed to? These things aren't perfect for even the most advanced of toddlers but they were (and sometimes still are) mountains for us. The answer as to how she would learn these things? We had/have to do them over and over and over again, far more times than her peers. <br><br>Hartley wanted to take ballet again in the fall. I had no desire to go back but I did it anyway. The first class was great. We still stood out but we picked up where we left off at the end of the spring session. So I didn't have to carry her and there were no tears. Each class, she improved. And get this, for her recital, she accepted her certificate proudly and got her picture taken. She didn't interrupt any of the other girls' spotlight moments. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVIjkcB4fEByXIhrygQ_BSgcyAO-_l5IkTg9DojRmnmkzLG3NhBOpSRj_7k7_xTLt-519Gc-_3BTz448RFTzaaeFLpg0dJ8vNMP_3LanprvbFVBjNnMPhWWHMUM-Sxgneu4HNSKHUySDl/s640/blogger-image--835772043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVIjkcB4fEByXIhrygQ_BSgcyAO-_l5IkTg9DojRmnmkzLG3NhBOpSRj_7k7_xTLt-519Gc-_3BTz448RFTzaaeFLpg0dJ8vNMP_3LanprvbFVBjNnMPhWWHMUM-Sxgneu4HNSKHUySDl/s640/blogger-image--835772043.jpg"></a></div><br>A month ago I met a woman in my MOMS Club, and I thought she looked familiar. She asked if I was "Hartley's mom" - turns out she'd been in fall ballet with us. When she asked if that's who I was, I knew that my girl and I still weren't hard to miss. I'm now much more okay with that. I wonder far less about "do they know?" I think most people do, and that's okay. My daughter marches to the beat of her own drummer; that's who she is, and it's not a bad thing.<br><br>And I will say this, while some parents have seemed put off by us at times, there actually have also been some really cool parents out there, too. Her spring and fall sessions there were parents who identified that Hartley was unique, and they did the coolest thing about it - they pushed their daughters to partner with Hartley. Hartley never wanted to chasse with a partner, and a few mom's would seek Hartley out and have their daughters take her hands and guide her. Those moments made my heart so happy. And I'll say it, those are great parents who will raise great kids. <br><br>Kicking off her third season of baby ballet has been very smooth. Her first session last week I felt so good. We do have a leg up because these other little ladies are doing this for the first time and we aren't but she now keeps up well. We are still very much learning though. She still loves to do things her own special way. Today wasn't quite as good as last class as far as focusing and following directions, and we'll have days like that, and that's okay. <br><br>Someone recently said to Brian and I that you can always seek comfort in the fact that no matter how your child is behaving, there's always someone else's kid in the room behaving worse. Well, while Brian and I can appreciate that that sentiment is true for most parents, we've had the humbling experience of being the parents wrangling the child who is doing things far differently from other kids. It isn't always easy. You always hope people around you will be kind and understanding, well knowing that not all will be. But we keep trying. And Hartley is incredible at how she keeps trying, too. And I've come to learn at the end of the day, that's what makes good parents and good kids. They keep trying. I learned that from baby ballet ;) </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzdVOINmyM0vACLX_Fw4HnmMPeXdT24qImLDKZKvcQ_XlSYvWljFTM9XBZ05uUVdQ102dbBVF6So6l9Zvg2NnyKTl1AeV4kmw_4gHDvYATob4M37YmSyrtlmdP2ZWInazmRSKU6-6Ikot/s640/blogger-image--3286105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzdVOINmyM0vACLX_Fw4HnmMPeXdT24qImLDKZKvcQ_XlSYvWljFTM9XBZ05uUVdQ102dbBVF6So6l9Zvg2NnyKTl1AeV4kmw_4gHDvYATob4M37YmSyrtlmdP2ZWInazmRSKU6-6Ikot/s640/blogger-image--3286105.jpg"></a></div><br></span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></span><br style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-69363521021431234882017-02-27T12:14:00.001-08:002017-02-27T12:14:26.660-08:00Early InterventionOkay, welcome to another venting blog entry. Recently all I want to do is write a blog entry regarding all of the fabulous progress Hartley has made in school but time always escapes me. Well, that and the weather has been so nice that we've been outside every chance we get. <div><br></div><div>Disclaimer before I write this: I truly am not writing this to attack an individual. My purpose in writing this is to set the record straight so to speak.</div><div><br></div><div>I was hosting Patrick's playgroup at my house this morning when one of moms asked me an interesting question. </div><div><br></div><div>She started talking about some local politics that would affect the county school budget drastically. She said she heard that the "free preschool" might be cut, and that it would be an obvious place to cut back. Now, I'm going to be a stickler here and correct her - let's call this "free preschool" what it really is: special education preschool aka early intervention services for special needs students. Ok, I'm going to be a bit snarky in this because it was highly inappropriate for me to be snarky with this woman in a room filled with toddlers. Let me start by saying I haven't received any information about special education preschool being cut but how do you <i>think </i>I would feel at the prospect? My daughter is flourishing because of these early intervention services, that I happen to think will literally change her life. All of the light I see in my daughter's eyes and all of the communication this service has made possible for my beautiful little girl - how do you think I feel? And I'll even say this, I know we probably have it the best of all the families that would be affected. Our daughter has high functioning autism. If need be, we can afford to send her to private preschool (though finding a fit as good as her current school would admittedly be very hard to come by). But for the families out there who aren't as lucky in these aspects as we are, it would be devastating, catastrophic. </div><div><br></div><div>She couldn't get past the "free" aspect of this preschool. Taxpayers paying to help these children, who have done nothing but merely designed a little differently. Now, in my immediate family we were not affected by special education services; my siblings and I didn't need them. However, my parents raised us to be helpful and accepting of others. They raised us to believe that even if something doesn't directly affect you, you should help others where you can. So honestly, having Hartley brought this cause closer in to my life but my beliefs on this are not because I have a child who has been diagnosed on the spectrum. I'm actually surprised that people who having opposing beliefs to mine have brought them up to me because it is a very personal, very sensitive subject to me now. And this is pathetic but when I spoke to this woman, I had to try to not cry. </div><div><br></div><div>I explained to her that these services will change the lives of many of these children. Early childhood development is so important. My mom who was a teacher for many years always reminds me that the years children don't remember, 0-5 years, are actually the most crucial to their development. I'll admit, before Hartley started preschool I had days where I wondered if she <i>could </i>learn social skills. That lead me to worrying whether or not she could ever go to college, get a job or live independently. I always tried not to get bogged down in those feelings of uncertainty but they would creep in. Other moms were worrying about vegetable-eating, sharing and time outs. And I'm over here breaking out at the thought of my daughter not going to college or getting married. I know that was dramatic of me because she was only two but I didn't see her "getting better". Thanks to special education preschool, these teachers, this county - I believe the sky is the limit for her. I see my daughter walking around in her doctor dress up outfit performing check ups on all her family members, and I think, "maybe she'll be a doctor someday". And when I say it out loud to her - I believe it. </div><div><br></div><div>This mom mentioned people taking advantage of these services and these tax payer dollars simply because their children "talk late". I explained to her that it's not easy to receive these services. Another mom chimed in, "there's an interview, right?" Ok, well I didn't even go into detail. You can read this blog if you want to know how easy it is (read: I binge ate Chinese food, drank lots of wine and barely survived that shit). I did mention to them something I didn't even really address at the time: it was the most stressful period of my life to date. And I know that's not just me being weak because Brian affirmed to me that it was extremely stressful for him, too.</div><div><br></div><div>I didn't feel like having this conversation but what I said to this woman was this: I think any parent of a special needs child would rather pay money for preschool and have their child get to develop typically. I love my daughter fiercely, and I would much rather pay a few grand for preschool and never have to worry about her struggling or being teased. And like I said, she's high functioning. She's high functioning and hell, last summer I would've paid those preschool thousands just to have someone guarantee that <i>everything would be okay </i>for her. I don't know - saving money on preschool I guess is nice but I definitely wouldn't <i>choose </i>for Hartley to need it. I am, however, beyond words happy that it's there for her because she needed/needs it. </div><div><br></div><div>I wrote this to get it off my chest. I get that many people can't empathize with something they simply don't understand. But I want to say this in case anyone is receptive to hearing it: I believe in early intervention. I believe it is changing my child's life. No need to ask me where I fall on this issue. And if you don't agree with me, that's fine, but you don't ever need to let me know :) </div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-9470087500434910812017-02-07T19:47:00.001-08:002017-02-07T19:47:14.056-08:00Happy 3rd birthday, Hartley!<div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAsAvzlg4Nrnq3WdlE8vfui-mn1thSkBSQiLE8uOjFfCEGYB1t8NIgTCyZRUTl1O_0ICo6nsuUE0AiXBm4hyphenhypheniL8e1MI5w0opuB39NwLe7fBGXsnMhxbsAUBems5TT1uUzAK88STqhcR71M/s640/blogger-image--179353342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAsAvzlg4Nrnq3WdlE8vfui-mn1thSkBSQiLE8uOjFfCEGYB1t8NIgTCyZRUTl1O_0ICo6nsuUE0AiXBm4hyphenhypheniL8e1MI5w0opuB39NwLe7fBGXsnMhxbsAUBems5TT1uUzAK88STqhcR71M/s640/blogger-image--179353342.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhl6qi7SXppckNgpz2IP8jGppmANZyyNwozfEDovxgG5U3LXOpflX9mR2zfZKFJW0J9A_xhJHstXvh57O8eTToLnEzMgiNfHbFpEd6QD_VITKwaqQ50NiyDksHUWK8gj9eNAf5ZxaAw11k/s640/blogger-image-874869895.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhl6qi7SXppckNgpz2IP8jGppmANZyyNwozfEDovxgG5U3LXOpflX9mR2zfZKFJW0J9A_xhJHstXvh57O8eTToLnEzMgiNfHbFpEd6QD_VITKwaqQ50NiyDksHUWK8gj9eNAf5ZxaAw11k/s640/blogger-image-874869895.jpg"></a></div></div></span></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div>Whenever Hartley's birthday rolls around I always reflect back to her actual birthday, the day she entered this world. She was a 7 pound peanut with a set of lungs and loads of sensitivities, and I was an overwhelmed new mom who was usually feeling exhausted or defeated. It's funny, I think my friends miss their children's earliest days when their birthdays come. And while I would enjoy a sniff of one of Hartley's old dreft-washed itty bitty sleepers, on birthdays I genuinely find so much joy in how far we have come. I think about how she went from feeling like a teeny stranger who often felt impossible to read to this little girl I feel like I know better than anyone else in the world. <br><br>This past year from 2 to 3 was my favorite, and it was also the one where she made the greatest leaps and developed even more personality. Our bond strengthened, too.<br><br>Hartley at her third birthday is so caring and sweet. She is wonderfully spirited and quirky. She is sensitive and intelligent. Her teachers have said she is so enthusiastic, that she always tries so hard. They've said she's very willing to learn, she's nice to her classmates, and that she's a pleasure to have in class. My mom says to know Hartley is to love her - and I think that sums her up perfectly. She is a very special little girl; Brian and I are such lucky parents. <br><br>This past year the things I'm most proud of are her growing as a protective and helpful big sister, and her doing phenomenally in preschool. <br><br>When Patrick was born, Hartley really didn't pay attention to him but over this past year their relationship has blossomed so much. I sometimes just write down the things she says to him. They make my heart swell. The other day we were on the driveway using sidewalk chalk and drinking juice boxes, and Patrick's juice started to make that empty slurp sound. Hartley got up and walked over to him and asked, "more juice, bud?" Or today I asked her to share her markers with him. She handed him a red marker and said, "here you go, Patticks. You have red!" She'll retrieve his sippy cup for him when he throws it from his high chair tray, and she'll take bits of her snack and place it on his tray to share with him. If he starts crying, she'll come let me know or she'll walk over to tell him, "it's okay". The other day he started to cry and she asked him, "what's wrong, bud?" For a little girl who is just learning to use conversational language and to see that she is channeling it to her brother first has been incredible. As she finds her voice more, I realize how kind her little heart is. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisrrOLJysFRxh4wyiaze97niHCeX5u4w8MHIvSmT_icr4sjujCtbQPKh5z7-rIKLnUHHgf1_zjCIWcxOmiPrMvN18yJf1Xerja5VXphhZZU3EI6VnQXeqBcYVYpCWY4ELWdsHopWRrjiuk/s640/blogger-image-235657616.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisrrOLJysFRxh4wyiaze97niHCeX5u4w8MHIvSmT_icr4sjujCtbQPKh5z7-rIKLnUHHgf1_zjCIWcxOmiPrMvN18yJf1Xerja5VXphhZZU3EI6VnQXeqBcYVYpCWY4ELWdsHopWRrjiuk/s640/blogger-image-235657616.jpg"></a></div><br>And how well she has done in preschool simply amazes me. There are certain parts of development that come naturally to other children that are challenging for Hartley. So five mornings a week she goes to school and learns. They do learn through fun, playful activities but she also meets with a speech therapist and does certain exercises pretty intensely for a child her age. She tries so hard, and it shows. Every single day she has gotten a smiley face for behavior. I see how kind she is towards the other children in her class, all children of different levels of abilities, and it makes me so proud. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZsHQEbbQOEA9L9pc7AncuWeoY2ih9vAG2pn82a4plNRXplCmX2ywa6EqVDALj4eqGNnJ7ibunnOwonBXOoNGYlAOQiEHaQx1eQC-pModrsvv6BSYxLsL559KLOjjN7VKvJvmljIk8VJZ/s640/blogger-image-382243040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyZsHQEbbQOEA9L9pc7AncuWeoY2ih9vAG2pn82a4plNRXplCmX2ywa6EqVDALj4eqGNnJ7ibunnOwonBXOoNGYlAOQiEHaQx1eQC-pModrsvv6BSYxLsL559KLOjjN7VKvJvmljIk8VJZ/s640/blogger-image-382243040.jpg"></a></div><br>A little bit about her at 3. <br><br>She has just now started answering questions, and she's told me her favorite color is pink.<br><br>She loves art: painting, coloring, glitter glue, beading necklaces, chalk. She actually is becoming a talented artist; she draws figures with heads, facial features, bodies, and sometimes arms, legs and ears. <br><br>The activities she's done this past year are swimming lessons, music class, ballet, and basketball. She liked all except swimming lessons. She likes the pool, but mainly just getting in and out of it and playing with pool toys. <br><br>She loves to play outside; she continues to be a very active kid. She likes being read to. Her favorite books are the Olivia books and a new Peppa the Pig Valentine book my mom got her.<br><br>She has lots of different interests from dress up to sports to cars to princesses. Her favorite movies shifted from Frozen, Tangled & Little Mermaid (last Fall) to Cars and The Peanuts Movie! She likes Sesame Street and Paw Patrol.<br><br>She sleeps in a big girl castle bed.<br><br>She is a picky eater but has a sweet tooth! <br><br>She loves letters and numbers. She is starting to write letters and can spell her name. Her memory is incredible; I'm constantly floored at how she can hear a song or book a couple of times and memorize it. <br><br>She loves her friends. She actually calls everyone a friend, which is just the sweetest. <br><br>I wish I had the time or the words to really capture her but I feel like anything I can write would fall short. There aren't words to do her justice.<br><br>To Hartley on your birthday, <br><br>You are an incredible little person. Your dad and I are so proud of you and so lucky to call you ours. You have taught us that there is overwhelming beauty in uniqueness. Always keep your kind, quirky, fun personality. Remember that you are strong, capable, and beautiful. Continue to be a person who thinks of others. And keep your enthusiasm for learning because I know with that, you will be unstoppable. <br><br>We love you, forever & always, our sweet Hartley Glenn.</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZDo8u_kGcsn3qgSLT80BdZyCpR_Xcb1YdpRV7BBO9WbvrbedC32XHDc8ybOUY1LLbm8OrJk_mWCOqyXLlwvL13W2P_m-RGMZjZCqdx1xNilc_y4PLh0wVouegQf0RUlcxvmd02H3Ms9rK/s640/blogger-image-1788253935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZDo8u_kGcsn3qgSLT80BdZyCpR_Xcb1YdpRV7BBO9WbvrbedC32XHDc8ybOUY1LLbm8OrJk_mWCOqyXLlwvL13W2P_m-RGMZjZCqdx1xNilc_y4PLh0wVouegQf0RUlcxvmd02H3Ms9rK/s640/blogger-image-1788253935.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div></div></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-20132641827236895372017-01-27T17:24:00.001-08:002017-01-27T17:24:27.578-08:00Life Lately<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If you're reading this, thanks for sticking through my last venting blog entry. I love my children so much, truly to the moon and back and then some. With that said, I still have days where they drive me crazy. I'll actually go ahead and say it - I'm an extremely patient person, kind of a requirement if you are going to survive spending <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0">24/7</a> with a 2 year old and a 1 year old. But I have my days, especially in January, my least favorite month of the year. I genuinely don't want my blog to sound like a complain fest but there's some cathartic about blogging your honest thoughts and feelings. There's something oddly liberating about admitting to the world that you are an imperfect human who gets frustrated. <br><br>Just wanted to say that. It was one of those blogs where I hit publish and then immediately texted Brian like, "wait, did I just do something really bad?" He's totally a biased person to ask because his response is always, "Nope. It's honest." <br><br>I'm here today to actually talk about the kids and how much they are growing and changing. I can't help but be so proud of them. It's cliche (and I've said it many times before) but this is my favorite age so far. No, it's certainly not without challenges or bad days but the kids get more fun by the day. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbDZtZvXIKxyCYyXqJQcku_q6M3WAAub5LXzC51PUwUbNegJHtOLQkQu0x2skzC6p50WgkHFSwdKpB1EhJxP7h1zvT57eA4Se4XrrxWxBlQPjQ7kc1f8WBh5f6O6gAtCDAUFn-aAInf7lK/s640/blogger-image--157112293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbDZtZvXIKxyCYyXqJQcku_q6M3WAAub5LXzC51PUwUbNegJHtOLQkQu0x2skzC6p50WgkHFSwdKpB1EhJxP7h1zvT57eA4Se4XrrxWxBlQPjQ7kc1f8WBh5f6O6gAtCDAUFn-aAInf7lK/s640/blogger-image--157112293.jpg"></a></div><br>We are in this whole new phase of a sibling friendship slash rivalry. It actually took us a long time to get to "fighting", I think. I think this is because Patrick has been so easy going that he used to be willingly dominated by Hartley. But not anymore. He is becoming a toddler with his own idea of what he wants now. They fight over things like toys but also attention. Also, gone are the days of giving something to Hartley and not to Patrick. Like juice boxes are a "big kid" thing in my house because they can be so messy but Patrick now has to have his juice box, too. The rivalry/fighting is a hard thing but if I'm being honest, a lot of the time I let them kind of sort it out on their own. I definitely intervene if it's big enough but I also want them to learn how to work through this stuff without me constantly playing referee. <br><br>Another thing we're currently working on in our house is self-care. Now, people are going to read what I'm about to say and laugh, and I totally get it, you are free to LOL at this. A big thing is walking. Yes, both of my children, and this is fueled by rivalry, are only wanting to be carried. It's straight up crazy. For a few weeks there I was carrying each down the stairs one at a time, same with to the car. Finally, my body started to ache so badly that I decided I couldn't do it anymore. At almost 1.5 years old and almost 3, they are totally able to walk so I'm trying to give in to the carrying thing less. <br><br>For Patrick, that boy just loves, and I mean LOVES, being a baby. He loves to be picked up and carried. Of course, then Hartley wants it because Patrick is getting it. And let's get real, while I often think of myself as a mini pony, I can't carry 70 pounds around. And I also can't take two trips to the car or up and down the stairs all day.<br><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSyITyI0MAkFAl6o7la4wkXNj42j_-_xCxI64rHB1hNXN8j6qjbr-ACj8Kg4_RPNpJP7p2lop-sqo9Wm9-JbziO1lHnLpWsvoTHDoXgyvlFukZKisZ9Dutq4AIuIWF64Wjux50vylviKH/s640/blogger-image--1494128135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdSyITyI0MAkFAl6o7la4wkXNj42j_-_xCxI64rHB1hNXN8j6qjbr-ACj8Kg4_RPNpJP7p2lop-sqo9Wm9-JbziO1lHnLpWsvoTHDoXgyvlFukZKisZ9Dutq4AIuIWF64Wjux50vylviKH/s640/blogger-image--1494128135.jpg"></a></div><br>I'm also trying to get them to come and sit on our entryway bench to have their shoes put on; I was getting so tired of chasing them around in the morning and tackling them to get on their shoes. Wrestling Patrick is like wrestling a wild boar. The kid is crazy. I'm working on them walking to and from the car, only lifting them and fighting them when I need to buckle them into their carseats ;)<br><br>Hartley I've actually started unbuckling and letting her slide herself out of her seat when I unload. I've just been trying to get her more self sufficient and trying to save my back. <br><br>I've also been working on getting Hartley to help with certain things. Cleaning up goldfish she spills, we're at like a 10 percent success rate on that ;) I'm trying to have her take off her own coat if I unzip it. I actually hung a couple hooks by the door so I'm going to eventually have her take down and hang up her coat. She can put on her rain boots, and sometimes even on the correct feet! It's seriously the cutest thing ever to watch her walk around with her shoes on wrong. She's so proud of putting them on, and it's the sweetest thing. <br><br>Other big things she's helping with is sometimes bringing Patrick a snack or finding her drink cup. "I go get it, Mama!" I've actually gotten to have her help carry in groceries a couple times recently! </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-GhGjIHFMr8lJJ6qPosURBDXHadu7u95b7yG1kKxHh67dbZI85Yqvrc4mvtKZsRdKkuG38LH2R-zgsALAhaorCimSV0Q29j435kMYz_RINb8PNofgNbtmpgk2stKn-NZxqSbUT1mWAmn/s640/blogger-image-225610217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-GhGjIHFMr8lJJ6qPosURBDXHadu7u95b7yG1kKxHh67dbZI85Yqvrc4mvtKZsRdKkuG38LH2R-zgsALAhaorCimSV0Q29j435kMYz_RINb8PNofgNbtmpgk2stKn-NZxqSbUT1mWAmn/s640/blogger-image-225610217.jpg"></a></div><br>I'm sure a lot of these things are tiny for kids her age but it's been hard not jumping in to help her with everything and watching her have to try to do things on her own a little bit. But once she gets it, she's so proud, and it's always worth the frustration and tears we see along the way.<br><br>And while I love that my baby boy loves being a baby, I'm having to push him a little, too. I'm finding that to be hard. More often than not I think Patrick is my last baby so I want to prolong his babyhood as much as I can. But truth be told, I'm physically starting to not be able to carry him as often as he'd like. There's a gigantic part of me that just wants to tell him to take as much time as he can growing up but at the end of the day, my body is saying it can't do it. <br><br>I also thought for a bit that Patrick's growth had slowed but it hasn't. Being around friends from his playgroup or other toddlers at the playground, I realize he is still massive. The kid is a beast. He still looks like a gigantic baby as opposed to having that little boy toddler look. It cracks me up. What we must look like together, my 5 foot 2 self carrying around the world's largest 1.5 year old. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTZsKVYZIPCwvR8dNOqHT9Mo1QskFO0mhFfwGadfn9OjKZpLXpOkpuXG4FD-aXH_xtrpR3hL_o7iBInxuyKLeD4vtfpI6c2YkkcJRUmgAliyASqwGlh5T5JQQ1rjr1cmi34cBR8BH1KCtM/s640/blogger-image-21251897.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTZsKVYZIPCwvR8dNOqHT9Mo1QskFO0mhFfwGadfn9OjKZpLXpOkpuXG4FD-aXH_xtrpR3hL_o7iBInxuyKLeD4vtfpI6c2YkkcJRUmgAliyASqwGlh5T5JQQ1rjr1cmi34cBR8BH1KCtM/s640/blogger-image-21251897.jpg"></a></div><br>He is a total mama's boy. He just started giving me kisses right on the mouth. Those big ol slugs come at me nice and slobbery, and he blurts out a loud "MWAH!" He loves to clap and make music. He likes being read to. He's learning new words little by little bur in true boy fashion he's not in a rush to talk. He mainly says, "car" "bus" "mama" and "bub gup" (that last one means the show Bubble Guppies). He's actually got a minimum of a dozen words but he mainly says those four! We'll be driving down the street and it's all "CAH! CAH! CAH! BUH!" from the backseat. He calls out every car and bus he sees. It's ridiculously cute and silly.<br><br>He loves Pete the Cat. My dad actually calls him Pete the Cat sometimes. I bought Patrick a Pete the Cat Valentine book that came with paper Valentine's in it. He loves giving his mom Valentine's. Today he'd hand me a slobbery valentine and shout a demonstrative, "HERE!" The book also came with a poster; so shock of the century, Patrick's first poster is not a Celtics or Patriots one, it's of a groovy beatnik Cat ;)<br><br>He is now in a forward facing car seat. I know that's probably a horrific thing to many modern moms but the kid couldn't fit backwards anymore, and I could've lift him into the backwards car seat anymore so it actually had to be that way. <br><br>We are pretty much down to one nap a day unless he's having an off day. We are trying to kick the bottle but he loves the bottle so it's been a struggle. <br><br>Ok, I was going to write a boatload about Hartley because all of a sudden starting yesterday she's had an incredible language burst but I have written too much already! But in the next few days I plan on a serious Hartley update. I actually just scheduled her next meeting with her developmental pediatrician for March so I'm actually going to be making more of a point to chronicle and record her development leading up to that. Sometimes I get into those appointments and feel like I should've written more down to "present", so my goal is to be more prepared this time :)<br><br>Thanks for reading another crane babes novel. Happy weekend!<br><br><br><br></span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></span><br style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-77123780031139336052017-01-19T11:48:00.001-08:002017-01-19T12:12:08.382-08:00My Non-Sleeping Beauty<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So I really haven't blogged this January. For the most part I've been in this very good, healthy zen state. Not because life is perfect. Every single one of us has already had a cold in the 19 days that have made up this year. My kids fight like cats and dogs... daily. And my healthy eating is sabotaged every other day by the energy slump that accompanies being a stay at home mom to two toddlers. But almost every day I've found something to be grateful for. I've been able to see the bigger picture. I've genuinely enjoyed my days.<br><br>But today I'm coming on here not in my positive, zen state. I'm coming on here for a moment to vent. To clear my mind of the jumble that's being floating around. And hopefully once I've purged these thoughts, I can take a deep breath and just move on. <br><br>Before Hartley was diagnosed with ASD, I once saw a meme on Facebook that got me thinking. It was a cartoon a friend posted of a skeleton in a rocking chair that said, "me waiting for my ASD child to fall asleep". At the time, ASD was on our radar for Hartley. I never knew there was a correlation between autism and sleep disorders. The cartoon actually prompted me to research. What I came across is that it is believed that up to 80 percent of children on the autism spectrum suffer from sleep disorders. I remember reading that and thinking it was just another thing that supported the possibility that Hartley had autism. <br><br>I can't tell you how many hours I've researched how to get a baby/toddler to sleep. If that number was actually put in front me I'd probably want to cry at the amount of life I've wasted. Napping has been a problem for Hartley literally since infancy. Eventually her doctor told me that Hartley (when she was a baby) could have 1 "morning nap" and 1 "afternoon nap", in which she'd spend a quiet hour in her crib for each. We actually did this all the way up until she was 18 months old, which is when I had Patrick. <br><br>There were days as a baby where she didn't nap. Usually she'd nap for one of the hours and not the other. Regardless, I did get a "break". <br><br>The older she got the harder naps became and the harder it was for her to fall asleep at night. <br><br>Nothing works for her. You name it, we've tried it. Lavender room spray. Lavender Oil in her bath. No screen time for several hours before sleep. A white noise machine. Only calming books. A strict routine. Laying down with her. <br><br>Some days she doesn't nap and she still stays up until 10 or <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0">11 pm</a>. Some weeks she'll only nap once (they are supposed to still be napping daily at two years old).<br><br>And for a long time I thought I was okay with it. Yes, I'd prefer to have a child with fantastic sleep habits (like Patrick actually!) but it isn't in the cards for me so why dwell? I actually came to this realization a while back, some people's parenting lot is harder than others but if you think about it that way all the time, you'll drive yourself completely mad. So I decided to try my hardest to kick the green eyed monster me who was envious of all the people who had children who napped - even though she still comes out every now and then. <br><br>A few days ago Hartley didn't nap. Instead she tore out all of the pages in the Olivia Fairy Princess book I had bought her for her second birthday. She ripped out all the pages and tore them up into tiny little pieces. Brian wasn't happy but I just wanted to maintain my January zen so I just figured we'll buy her a replacement once she learns not to tear up books, whenever that may be. I tried to get her to clean it with me but I ended up crawling around on the floor by myself picking up all these scraps of paper and stuffing them into a trash bag. It hurt to shove the adorable turquoise book cover - this was not a remotely green moment - in the bag but what's a Mom to do, right?<br><br>Yesterday afternoon, my zen January streak ended. That woman who calmly crawled around searching for paper scraps was gone. This woman who'd played the Pollyanna game for several weeks just didn't have it in her anymore. <br><br>It was another day of Hartley not napping. Now, not napping is annoying, but what I hadn't mentioned is that when Hartley isn't remotely well rested, she is on another level. The vast majority of things she says are just non sensical. She has these super hyper spells. She simply can't focus at all. She's extremely fragile. I mean, the kid has a meltdown if you ask her to take a bite of her pizza dinner. And after a few hours filled with crying, hitting her brother, gibberish, screaming - I just put her upstairs in her room, and I called Brian crying. <br><br>I swear, 98 percent of the time I'm this woman who loves that my child is "quirky". I think it's wonderfully endearing that she says it's Christmas on a random Tuesday or tells me "Happy Mother's Day" in January. I laugh about the fact that we listen to the same song over and over again every day in the car (The Peanuts Movie song that Meghan Trainor sings - Better When I'm Dancing). I even have thought about how cute it is that my daughter likes to sleep with random objects in her bed or lines up her fruit loops. <br><br>But the past couple no nap days, I'll admit I've thought - I'm not cut out of this. My daughter is almost three and I just want her to rest so she can focus and learn. I want her to get that sleep that helps her grow and develop. I desperately want us to get to a point where I can ask her a question and have her do more than repeat the last couple words back to me. <br><br>And I know very well that it could be worse. That thought even makes me feel even guiltier! Because some mothers have kids that don't talk at all; they would kill to be in my shoes. But at the same time, I know most mom's of girls my daughter's age can ask them a question and get something. And the vast majority of the time, I can't. And on the days she can only bounce off the walls and speak extra oddly, I just feel like we are climbing the steepest mountain in the world. <br><br>She's getting better and better with her social skills and her language skills but wow, none of that progress is without work. None of it happens without some amount of struggle. <br><br>I've become this woman who is almost always okay with that. I actually shock myself at how much I genuinely don't care that my child is developing a little differently or a little behind the curve. The other day when her teacher said Hartley's not at a point where she's ready to start potty training, I actually felt relief! I actually thought, oh the joys of not having to race to hit these milestones because we get to do everything at our own beautiful pace. <br><br>But sometimes that woman is nowhere to be found. <br><br>I'm writing this not to say, "woe is me". I don't feel that way. But I write this to purge my negative thoughts. To spew them out of myself so I can clear my head and rally on. To get back to my January zen. Because apparently coffee and wine can't fix everything, and some how this space seems to help me. <br><br>Today is the third day in a row where Hartley won't nap. It will surely be another long afternoon of jumbled speech and walking on eggshells. But now that I've emptied my frustrations, I feel like I can do it. I can calmly and patiently make it until Brian comes home with a fresh amount of patience and sensitivity.</span>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-50528134314695065352017-01-04T16:57:00.001-08:002017-01-04T16:57:06.178-08:00Starting 2017<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Here we are - 2017. How is that even possible? I still see Lifetime movie descriptions with original air dates of the early 2000's and think, "oh good! A new one!" <br><br>Even though time seems to just go faster the older I get (I'm assuming that due to the relativity of it to my life), I'm very happy for it to be 2017.<br><br>I actually hung my 2017 calendar a week before the new year started. I actually am fortunate not to be someone who had a bad 2016; I've addressed it on here as a "growing" year. But I'm one of those people who loves the restart button, the idea with a new bit of time, anything is possible. And how 2017 is my year to just be. Just exist and honestly, take a little better care of myself.<br><br>Brian and I recently talked about the tremendous amount of change we've undergone in the last handful of years. I feel like we've done it all: two moves, a couple promotions for Brian, big house renovations, fertility treatment, two pregnancies, two babies. He said how finally this year would finally be our year to just focus on health and happiness, which has me so excited about this year. <br><br>I have some resolutions. The first three days of the new year I was a dieting queen but then today happened, and the carbs came right back to me. But my new way of looking at things is that there will be days like this, and that's okay as long as they are the exception and not the rule! While I genuinely love raising my babies, waking up sick myself and then having two babes with fevers and the snotty nose works isn't the easiest of days; if a frozen pizza lunch helps get us through, then so be it. In 2016, frozen pizza became a crutch more often than I even care to admit. This year I'm trying to reserve it more for the "survival days". <br><br>In a little over a month, Hartley turns 3, and Patrick will be 1.5. While they are tiring, I'm pretty in love with these ages. I can't get over how Hartley has become so engaging: pointing things out to me and asking me questions. While every mom I know seems to be saddened by their child aging, I've just found myself relishing in it. I love watching her grow and learn and seeing her personality develop. I've said it before and I'll say it again - she truly is the sweetest kid. I've been sneezing up a storm today and she never lets a sneeze go without saying, "bless you, mama." Today we were watching Frozen, and Hartley turned to me with a concerned look on her face and said, "oh no, Anna's sad, mama." I'm actually floored at her starting to express such sweet, genuine concern for others. To anyone afraid of the "terrible twos", I'll say I've actually really loved two. There can certainly be tantrums but getting to watch your toddler develop into a little person is so amazing and rewarding. <br><br>Now I will say with Hartley I was not a fan of the 15-18 month age range. This might have had something to do with it being sweltering and me being very pregnant. But it was an era in which her little body could physically get into so much trouble because her brain wasn't listening to me at all. So I've basically dreaded this chapter with Patrick. And honestly, it's been a fun chapter for me! This is the age where you really get your exercise but he doesn't run half as fast as Hartley did at this age, and he actually does listen to "stop" so it feels like a breeze in comparison! He interested and curious when it comes to his surroundings but by nature he's a little cuddle bug so he's easy to reign in. Pick up a stack of books to read and put that boy in your lap, and he's happy as a clam. He is very much Hartley's shadow. He wants to do everything she does but the problem is the kids tries to eat EVERYTHING. With that said I feel I can safely say that Crayola is as non-toxic as they claim to be. <br><br>2017 I have all these goals and ideas in mind. I actually bought myself a really pretty notebook so I can take to listing everything. A lot of the goals focus on me. Not just losing weight or exercise but taking care of my stress levels and mental/emotional health. I feel like that's all pretty connected. I decided to quit the bs of resolving to be a better mom. I'm not a perfect mom but I'm a really fantastic mom to my kids, and I actually think the area I need to work on is remembering myself from time to time. <br><br>My 2017 victories so far: we made use of the 1 truly gorgeous day we had by spending family time outside at the park. I'm 3 for 4 for healthy home cooked dinners; 1 of those meals I was finally able to closely replicate my mom's curried shrimp recipe (I botched the hell of it in 2016!). I used our newly fixed elliptical during nap time (pre being sick). And today when everyone was sick and I felt like a miserable crab, I actually found the reset button: I put Patrick in his crib, put the tv on for Hartley, and I took a quick, hot shower. That was me breathing and restarting with a better attitude, focusing on a lazy day with my babies, and it worked! I know my successes are little ones and I know somedays won't be reset button salvageable, but I'm happy about 2017 so far. I'm very excited to see what lies ahead for my little family!<br><br>Also, I was really missing my shows, and I'm really happy they're back. Let's get real, The Bachelor makes Mondays better. And I need This Is Us in my life. <br><br>But Happy start of 2017 to all! The best is yet to come! </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF1eeMq4VPjXoorG3NvCMa23Bpt1K-P40z5MHWDuRKRxcYugdkAIgNRZSkhftH6wiQnJMmBxnPQbty2VVciLPONHr2GipLcATfU7C_LRPs6Uy1nJdyKn58B_1_7KeExp_MC6xDAK7qEtgX/s640/blogger-image-686562115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF1eeMq4VPjXoorG3NvCMa23Bpt1K-P40z5MHWDuRKRxcYugdkAIgNRZSkhftH6wiQnJMmBxnPQbty2VVciLPONHr2GipLcATfU7C_LRPs6Uy1nJdyKn58B_1_7KeExp_MC6xDAK7qEtgX/s640/blogger-image-686562115.jpg"></a></div><br></span><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmVHONRx-xpxp9Ue_2kL6B1VKFDQhtwAafz3hHuLcS5d20__SaPP35JrHyS_WGuvrp_4spcXq1Y5diPPRaW-GNa17BbPl378TbXNSPyTxtNsOZqZPnqNKd_VWQIHKIsHNn0F9aY71rukM/s640/blogger-image--955370285.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQmVHONRx-xpxp9Ue_2kL6B1VKFDQhtwAafz3hHuLcS5d20__SaPP35JrHyS_WGuvrp_4spcXq1Y5diPPRaW-GNa17BbPl378TbXNSPyTxtNsOZqZPnqNKd_VWQIHKIsHNn0F9aY71rukM/s640/blogger-image--955370285.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOXfbV1C5swIKAUXd8A7nN5RddRyaWN5MKNmGXFzid_qamI5p1LisuZ94UKu3YBu0CKUg0jqo4ww_-xKCwDZYE3o0KwfVSGSa-CBBufA50WxIVVA4VOcs3-MNGAMSHOpFiEnGW7Jc2yKn/s640/blogger-image-2100071824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOXfbV1C5swIKAUXd8A7nN5RddRyaWN5MKNmGXFzid_qamI5p1LisuZ94UKu3YBu0CKUg0jqo4ww_-xKCwDZYE3o0KwfVSGSa-CBBufA50WxIVVA4VOcs3-MNGAMSHOpFiEnGW7Jc2yKn/s640/blogger-image-2100071824.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-85433987501306968962016-12-29T10:55:00.001-08:002016-12-29T10:55:13.384-08:00A Very Crane Christmas<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We're driving home from Sesame Place, and Christmas feels officially over. I always purposefully "start" Christmas around Thanksgiving so we don't feel like it came and went too quickly. We actually did our first Christmas thing, Meadowlark Walk of Lights, a week before Thanksgiving because we had a day in the 60's, and I knew we had to take advantage! <br><br>I don't know if I have the energy to write out details on all of the Christmas things, nor do I think anyone has the interest or stamina to read that long of an entry. I'm going to try to remember and include as much as I can though. <br><br>So a laundry list of how we celebrated. Please excuse the choppiness but here it goes:<br><br>We walked through Meadowlark's Walk of Lights (twice, actually). This was such a big hit with Hartley, our Christmas light aficionado. Patrick got to walk a bit the first time we went because it wasn't crowded but on Christmas Eve Eve he enjoyed it from his wagon. <br><br>We went to the Reston Holiday Parade the day after Thanksgiving. It was absolutely fantastic! We sat on the curb in a little section right before the route officially started. It was perfect because we still got to see the parade pass through without it being super crowded. Plus all the performers hooked Hartley up with candy ;) This year's parade was actually ranked in the top 10 in the country! <br><br>We took the kids to Cox Farms to meet Santa. Of course, in true Crane fashion, the picture didn't do the experience justice. Patrick was cool with it but Hartley really loved meeting Santa. I was so proud when she said (completely unprompted), "Merry Christmas, Santa!" That was the kick off to hearing her sweetly say those words all month long. <br><br>We went and bought our tree at the same lot we went to for Hartley's first Christmas. We attempted decorating it together. Hartley's speciality was just placing ornaments on top of branches, and Patrick's was taking them off the tree. They really loved playing with the strands of lights so we kept one off the tree for the sole purpose! They hung around outside with us when the strung the lights on the house. And every evening Hartley would ask to go outside to see them. <br><br>We read Christmas books. Patrick's favorite was Pete The Cat Saves Christmas, and Hartley's was 'Twas The Night Before Christmas. We watched Christmas movies (I watched the Hallmark ones almost nightly). Patrick's favorite was Elmo's Countdown to Christmas, and Hartley's was Mickey's Twice Upon A Christmas. Hartley did lots of cute holiday crafts in school. She was a pro at singing Jingle Bells (that was probably my favorite thing this Christmas). <br><br>Hartley and I hosted some friends for a gingerbread house making play date. Hartley loved decorating and eating. Afterwards she kept talking about "Gingerbread man's house". Patrick enjoyed eating pieces, too. The kids went to my parents house to decorate their felt Christmas tree and to decorate Christmas cookies. <br><br>We celebrated Christmas over several days. Christmas Eve Eve with my side of the family. We did present opening, pizza, and a stroll through Meadowlark's Walk of Lights. Hartley lucked out with her aunts and uncles taking turns holding her hand or hoisting her up into the sky. Christmas Eve we did Brian's side of the family for present opening and dinner. Then Christmas morning we hosted my parents, my sister, brother in law and niece for Christmas brunch. I was actually really happy to get to host Christmas morning because pajama brunches are my favorite holiday tradition! Later on in the day, Brian's friend/Patrick's godfather came to visit, and it was really nice to see him. <br><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmYdrX-RoC9OBRnDJkmNOVb38xuijk1384d7I0s78xSC-NxQB_yk0pV6rKpOre7xOLSiivhMqzojQcZgWh2jFGDlEyU8jt_Dfmet10Tonz5uEsBkwv9fDMZBmPI2ESRMyPS1S3O5xMqOGq/s640/blogger-image-1385598018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmYdrX-RoC9OBRnDJkmNOVb38xuijk1384d7I0s78xSC-NxQB_yk0pV6rKpOre7xOLSiivhMqzojQcZgWh2jFGDlEyU8jt_Dfmet10Tonz5uEsBkwv9fDMZBmPI2ESRMyPS1S3O5xMqOGq/s640/blogger-image-1385598018.jpg"></a></div><br>The morning after Christmas we went to Maryland to see my grandparents. After Hartley was born I decided doing the shuffle to Maryland on Christmas Day was a little too much for us but I love our tradition of visiting them around Christmas. The kids relish in all the individual attention, and my grandparents really light up seeing the kids. <br><br>Then the day after that we left for Sesame Place in Langhorne, PA. They decorate for the holidays for their "Very Furry Christmas" and do all sorts of neat little events. It was a fabulous trip that couldn't have gone any better. Even though we took three successful little road trips earlier in the year with the kids (two to Ocean City, one to Raleigh), trips with a 2 year old and 1 year old can be a little unpredictable. But it went better than I could've imagined. <br><br>The kids loved Sesame Place. They enjoyed meeting all the characters; Elmo was the most popular. They loved all the Christmas decorations (they do a little Festival of Lights at night). They loved watching a live Sesame Christmas musical. But the part that most surprised me was how much they both loved the rides. I thought Hartley might be scared or Patrick would just be too young. But nope! Hartley begged to go on the rides again and again. By the end my head was spinning!! Patrick was also so brave and smiley. It was so funny to see my one year old in the mix with all the big kids on the rides! Who knows if it was even really allowed but he sat in his own seat on Oscar's Trashcan Rocketship ride! He cracks me up with how much he wants to keep up with Hartley and do whatever she does. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7qody1ORv2suaFu16UGAtmaINFI8GJR9o8qojb0U9m3yBsXN6CYbd6551UT1eObn_6FkMppdiWBsxa-8I9rKTbG5DzbwdmvgB65ixRk-g5bi_A5pXzE-IvU0WumuT-kpKZ-mAF9WZhnsp/s640/blogger-image-750983946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7qody1ORv2suaFu16UGAtmaINFI8GJR9o8qojb0U9m3yBsXN6CYbd6551UT1eObn_6FkMppdiWBsxa-8I9rKTbG5DzbwdmvgB65ixRk-g5bi_A5pXzE-IvU0WumuT-kpKZ-mAF9WZhnsp/s640/blogger-image-750983946.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizIp5NREKsKYCVdAfntK6YXEaalDFaDnkVjebFpZcYVjdZZgcwNerrgsZ0mFxhbjgfYIbrmc0emgrZvD6-U_qM1thqwkGYzQGO1dtHejVSYQrbeONS9AQh8-IfUY0MxIINiXSO3xtoovf5/s640/blogger-image--529902868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizIp5NREKsKYCVdAfntK6YXEaalDFaDnkVjebFpZcYVjdZZgcwNerrgsZ0mFxhbjgfYIbrmc0emgrZvD6-U_qM1thqwkGYzQGO1dtHejVSYQrbeONS9AQh8-IfUY0MxIINiXSO3xtoovf5/s640/blogger-image--529902868.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdDVS9NWMIpy_PBnq_BrZV0dJgwGNJfkRLrr-hJwxIpvwcUhW7vbJ-gCPxpiSGunHCaJ2OhQB12SAgdN-CODicndZn_HOWVmCAhYnG7ssWQLNBjMaETPPkjgpH9m44fRXIHvswE4YF9qO/s640/blogger-image-1683112093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdDVS9NWMIpy_PBnq_BrZV0dJgwGNJfkRLrr-hJwxIpvwcUhW7vbJ-gCPxpiSGunHCaJ2OhQB12SAgdN-CODicndZn_HOWVmCAhYnG7ssWQLNBjMaETPPkjgpH9m44fRXIHvswE4YF9qO/s640/blogger-image-1683112093.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkKoTfYhuBIRmZ9jlJ_hgUHOr40PByscw_2YsCw2C_rsve5Fesgn5d_jPtlNE5TXTSbKAO_qE0TRM6PTAkMcFgUzfv_EgocLEzVg7X_-n_jMqG3CkZ2BRPOH4audT-hmOyhHlFHnKBfAf/s640/blogger-image--1154552639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkKoTfYhuBIRmZ9jlJ_hgUHOr40PByscw_2YsCw2C_rsve5Fesgn5d_jPtlNE5TXTSbKAO_qE0TRM6PTAkMcFgUzfv_EgocLEzVg7X_-n_jMqG3CkZ2BRPOH4audT-hmOyhHlFHnKBfAf/s640/blogger-image--1154552639.jpg"></a></div></div></div></div><br>It has been a fantastic Christmas Break, and it's still not even over yet. Tomorrow is actually my day to catch up with friends & family without the kids in tow, which I'm looking forward to.<br><br>I hope everyone else had a Merry Christmas & Happy Holiday Season! As we wind down 2016, I hope everyone is able to count their blessings from this year and get excited for 2017. The best is yet to come!</span></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-7585555184351596482016-12-21T18:20:00.001-08:002016-12-21T18:20:13.297-08:00What Autism Looks Like<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I saw an info graphic on Facebook the other day that I shared, and it got me thinking about a blog entry I've really been wanting to write. Please keep in mind what I'm about to share is pretty personal to me so please bear with me and understand I'm not speaking collectively, these are my own thoughts.<br><br>Back when I was in school, there was no such thing as the autism spectrum. There were kids who were autistic, and there were a couple "subsets" so to speak of autism. But when you thought of a kid with autism you thought of a child who was pretty severely impaired socially and cognitively, maybe not even speaking at all. <br><br>Well, in recent years, this definition has changed. Autism has become a spectrum that encompasses a group people with a wide range of strengths and weaknesses of different measures in various areas. I read a quote once that I loved. It said, "if you've met one person with autism, you've met one person with autism." I think if there is one thing that all people should understand about ASD, it's exactly that. <br><br>Hartley is often very difficult to describe or explain to people. She is not severely autistic. In fact, if you met her and weren't familiar with how other kids her age act, you might not even really notice that she's atypical. <br><br>I've had people ask me how or when I knew that something was different, and that's actually something I've wanted to share for a while but haven't been sure quite how to say it.<br><br>If you read my blog regularly, you might remember how this process all got started. Shortly before Hartley's second birthday, Brian took her to the doctor for a cold, and the doctor mentioned Hartley's language was "behind". In hindsight, this wasn't the most accurate way of describing what was going on. At the appointment, Hartley was jargoning, the fancy autism community lingo for speaking in gibberish. It's more atypical than it is "behind". <br><br>But that is what basically got the ball rolling. From there she was evaluated by the county to see if she qualified to receive speech therapy services. Then shortly after the speech therapist began working with her, our service coordinator said we should look into having Hartley evaluated for special ed preschool. They would go on to suggest that Hartley should also see a developmental pediatrician. Her regular pediatrician referred us to Children's hospital. The school system said that Hartley qualified for services under the label "developmental delay" but they also strongly felt she could qualify under the "autism" label. Then at our meeting with the developmental pediatrician she said Hartley was on the autism spectrum, and that she would notify that school system that Hartley was in need of early intervention preschool services. <br><br>But the strange thing was, I knew ages ago that Hartley was unique. <br><br>When Hartley was a newborn, she didn't like to be held. I remember telling seasoned mothers this, and they looked at me like I had 5 heads. My mom noticed it too, though. Hartley would cry for hours for no reason. People would say, "oh Page, babies cry". But she could cry for a couple hours straight for no apparent reason. I'd never seen any of my friends' babies do that. <br><br>That's when at 2 months, Hartley's doctor gave me an answer. "She's a very sensitive baby". <br><br>So as a new mom, I felt validated. I had an answer. When I took Hartley new places, she would scream and cry endlessly. Nothing worked to soothe her. She didn't like being out of our house. Again, seasoned moms had advice: "well, if you just take her out places, she'll just have to get used to it". Only she never did. Honestly, it was agony. It was isolating. I could only stay in my house or go out for walks just the two of us. In hindsight, I'm sure it contributed to how lousy I felt when she was a baby. <br><br>The older she grew, she became more okay with being out. She was still very much a sensitive baby, though.<br><br>I'll always remember my mom buying Hartley a bunch of hats because she absolutely despised the sun in her eyes. I'd drive places and if the sun were in her eyes, she'd scream until I fixed it.<br><br>She was constantly moving. To this day, I've never seen a baby who moves half as much as she did. She would never sit in my lap to read a book. I had to stop doing her "chair pictures" after her 7 month picture because she would throw herself off the chair faster than I could even snap a picture. <br><br>She was an early walker (10 months) but she was so clumsy. She face planted into cement right around her first birthday; it didn't occur to her to catch herself. To this day her legs are constantly bruised from falling. <br><br>The first time she finger-painted , she absolutely hated it. Just touching the paint threw her through a loop. She grew to love painting once we began using brushes, and she didn't have to touch the paint. <br><br>She has always been a horrible napper (and now, sleeper). She would just bounce in her crib for an hour until her "nap time" was over. She went through a phase where she'd head butt the wall, which wasn't as dramatic as it sounds but I hated it so much. I kind of just thought other kids did these things, honestly. And as Patrick grows older I realize how these things weren't that normal. <br><br>Hartley also did advanced things. She knew the alphabet at 18 months, out of context and in context. She was counting to ten at her 2nd birthday which is a 3rd birthday skill. I just thought, "wow! I'm awesome at teaching my kid things!" That bubble has burst ;)<br><br>My big indicator though that pushed me to do these various assessments was Hartley not responding to her name. I think as a parent this has been one of the hardest parts of this. It's actually far more challenging than it sounds but one day she got away from me outside. I kept calling her name, and she never came because she didn't respond to her name. It sounds so silly but it's really scary and sad when your child can't "hear" you. And as Patrick grows and he listens to me and comes when he's called, I'm relieved but I'm also a little sad that Hartley hasn't been able to naturally develop like that. She's definitely getting better but it's not the same. <br><br>One of the first screenings Hartley had was with an audiologist to make sure it wasn't a hearing issue causing things. <br><br>These things in hindsight were clues that something was "off". The developmental pediatrician told us that Hartley was born this way. And she comforted us by saying that even though Hartley has autism, she's got a lot going for her. Some children with autism don't speak; Hartley can speak. Some children with autism tend to be really unhappy; Hartley is happy. Some children with autism have impaired cognitive abilities; Hartley's cognitive abilities are actually "mature". <br><br>But sometimes people don't realize what it is exactly about Hartley that is different. She is very sensitive and very intense (people think all toddlers are but this is next level). She can be pretty obsessive (this actually has gotten worse lately. An example being needing to sleep with a bunch of specific Christmas ornaments). She has a hard time transitioning from one activity to another, and she isn't easy to redirect. Once she is in meltdown mode, she's almost impossible to reason with. She is pretty literal. She can be aloof, and she can check out from time to time. A lot of social nuances that come naturally to kids her age, don't come naturally to her. She has trouble answering simple questions where she has to do more than label. When she talks her speech is a little funny. It's choppy and backwards sometimes. She's echolailic so she often echoes the last couple words of a question back instead of answering. <br><br>Sometimes people who aren't around her often might say these types of things sound like just a different personality. I thought that for the longest time but as time goes on, Brian and I have both realized it goes deeper than that. It's actually difficult because we're trying to figure out the balance of how much to "correct" and how much to embrace as who she is. I let her sleep with ornaments but do I draw the line when she wakes up at 2 am and asks for a specific one that's downstairs on the tree? There's no manual for this. <br><br>My mom has said a lot of things that make Hartley different actually make her cuter. I completely agree with this. My girl has the absolute sweetest, kindest heart. She says and does so many quirky and endearing things. A lot of girls her age are sassy but she actually doesn't have it in her to be that way. <br><br>As time goes on, I've really evolved a lot to embrace and celebrate Hartley's brain just working differently. And sometimes, on my weaker days, I cry because I wish the hard parts were easier. Sometimes I feel like I'm living my life just trying to do whatever makes her happy, and it's an exhausting way to live. <br><br>I've written various entries referencing Hartley's ASD. But honestly I felt this urge to write this the other day. I sometimes feel like there's a great deal of confusion on autism. People don't fully understand it because it is so different for everyone affected. But this is what it is in my family. <br><br><br></span>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-48090406613948954402016-12-12T12:23:00.001-08:002016-12-12T12:55:33.552-08:00Hartley & Patrick, the latest & greatest<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Back in the day I used to blog what Hartley was up to basically each month: the new skills she was learning, the toys or activities she was loving. The wheels definitely fell off that one, which I can't say I feel bad about - that's life. I don't really have any desire to go back to those types of entries. They were always relatively forced. We were at a certain date on the calendar, so I had to chart where she was. <br><br>With the said, however, I do want to talk a little about where each of the kids are at the moment. Not because of a date of the calendar but because, quite frankly, I'm feeling really happy and excited about their stages.</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0P-frdVwuMHz2cN2ozUyOKS0_1hn_byrX2G-pBTfM3xjs5LGfzFFdfgbvRAyqoB-PcBjs8Zuf4_Fy74GFIs_L5i70H4r5_-ATPyA-uNtN2ZW25QkyeJXIN1JRuN-ND0Juqxz8gG8VPAan/s640/blogger-image-582336643.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0P-frdVwuMHz2cN2ozUyOKS0_1hn_byrX2G-pBTfM3xjs5LGfzFFdfgbvRAyqoB-PcBjs8Zuf4_Fy74GFIs_L5i70H4r5_-ATPyA-uNtN2ZW25QkyeJXIN1JRuN-ND0Juqxz8gG8VPAan/s640/blogger-image-582336643.jpg"></a></div> <br>This is random, laundry list style so Godspeed if you choose to accept the challenge!<br><br>Hartley is a couple months away from turning 3. She is now sleeping in a "big girl bed", which is a twin mattress on the floor. She's probably the most clumsy kid I've ever known (she can thank her dad for that!) so having a mattress on the floor feels like the right speed for now. But she loves her big girl bed, especially her ballerina sheets and her floral quilt. Plus, there's enough room for the dozen stuffed animals she must sleep with every night. Her top ranked sleep companion currently is a Mickey Mouse ornament. Basically I need to invest in a back up ;)<br><br>It takes Hartley a while to actually fall asleep (I'd say an hour on average), and she probably only naps once or twice a week. I guess she can thank her mom for her not-awesome sleep skills! <br><br>Hartley can now take off her coat; she can unzip and zip but usually needs help getting started with zipping. She is starting to walk upright while holding the railing going up and down the stairs. As of the past few days she can put on her own rain boots since they just slide on. She is starting to have opinions about what she'd like to wear. She loves tutus, probably because she loves ballet. Sometimes she insists on wearing her ballet slippers if she's wearing a tutu. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJj0_rpu__-2aTEkDpcTzOwVVurNCSuwkadH__f-LeIXFB1pmEsEAcb-eMPpQy6qAS54rQLZq9jC4jAtI9GfB4iwpL3pDy3cswIlkx1KiMbG496sY-PWPulI1zdmBM_yWnDgD6rwsINhyphenhyphenV/s640/blogger-image-1287369749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJj0_rpu__-2aTEkDpcTzOwVVurNCSuwkadH__f-LeIXFB1pmEsEAcb-eMPpQy6qAS54rQLZq9jC4jAtI9GfB4iwpL3pDy3cswIlkx1KiMbG496sY-PWPulI1zdmBM_yWnDgD6rwsINhyphenhyphenV/s640/blogger-image-1287369749.jpg"></a></div><br>She continues to be a picky eater but her current favorite food is a "jelly-bunga" sandwich. This is her own term for a sandwich that's light on peanut butter and heavy on jelly. She stole Cookie Monster's saying, "COWABUNGA!" and made it her own, I guess. She also loves pizza, fruit, orange juice, and teddy crackers (teddy grahams). She likes to eat icing off of donuts and cupcakes but doesn't care for the cake part. She'll hand Brian or I the leftover cake portion and tell us, "that's trash". Though we actually are working on having her put things in the trash can on her own, and she's doing well with that! Oh, and she LOVES Chik-fil-a, especially the lemonade. She will always "cheers" you when she's drinking her chik-fil-a lemonade. So obviously we've raised a health nut, right? We try for healthy foods too but we are parents who pick and choose our battles, and food is not one we push too hard. And she doesn't eat this junk daily - it's just a list of her favorite things that she would eat daily if we let her!<br><br>She loves to count. For a while over the summer we discouraged counting at the advice of professionals because we didn't want her to get fixated. But as she expands on what she knows and becomes more engaging, we've let counting creep back in. She can count past 20, and I've seen her identify much larger numbers than that. She loves to count Christmas lights.<br><br>She is becoming much more engaging; she is starting to seek us out to show us things on occasion, which is a huge milestone in our home. She is also starting to ask us questions which is an even bigger milestone for us. This morning she looked out the window and my car wasn't in the driveway so she turned to me and asked, "where's mama's car?" Just such a huge thing for us because she's curious and engaging us. <br><br>She's also starting to use prepositions. The other day she told me "Wook! A dog on stocking!" (Her stocking has a dog on it)<br><br>She is also starting to say "mine" and sometimes even "I". This is one of the goals on her IEP, and I'm amazed at how she's already getting it. I brought this up to her teacher, and she said they practice it at school pretty intensely so she was pleased it was being carried over to home. <br><br>She's starting to answer questions outside of just labeling questions. It's shaky, and it's definitely in the early stages but it's happening! She is starting to tell me more of what she needs/wants, and how she is feeling. She can tell me "hurt" when she's hurt and can sometimes pinpoint where. Today was the first day ever where she was extremely tired, and she recognized that she needed to nap. I asked her how she was feeling, and she said, "sad". I asked her if she wanted to nap, and she said, "yes". <br><br>She is very affectionate with me. She often asks for "mama cozy couch", which means she wants to sit on the couch with me under a blanket. Feet must be fully covered by the blanket ;)<br><br>Her big thing lately has been her fascination with all things Christmas. She enjoyed meeting Santa, and she told him, "Merry Christmas, Santa!" She loves Christmas lights. She unfortunately has learned how to plug them into the wall so she's been known to plug in the lights for us. When we drive past Christmas lights, she always wants to get out of he car to see them. We did Meadowlark walk of lights weeks ago but we'll definitely need to repeat it for her. And she loves Christmas trees and ornaments. It's been so magical celebrating Christmas this month. She could care less about the presents, she just loves all the beautiful, little things about Christmas, and I love that. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>She can sing a little bit of Jingle Bells (I haven't ever even sung this to her). We also have learned that her extraordinary memory has been working overdrive learning words to almost every song on the radio. It's honestly nothing short of amazing. Brian and I both were just completely in awe the other day in the car. The other day the Daya song Sit Still, Look Pretty came on, and she sang it word for word. I literally started to get teary because even though she didn't know it, she was singing such a cool girl anthem.<br><br>The other skill that she's doing that's mind boggling is sight reading. I bought a sign that says SANTA STOPS HERE and has a chalkboard for a countdown. I held her up to ask her to read me the number I had written, and she said, "Santa Stops". I'd never read her the sign before; I was floored. <br><br>She really is so brilliant. It's funny how we struggle with the "easy" stuff that comes naturally to others but her mind really is constantly moving. I never fully shared her assessment from Children's Hospital but it read that Hartley was "adorable but aloof" with "mature cognitive abilities". She can't always tell you if she had a good day at school but she'll correct you if you call teal blue. She's pretty amazing. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And all the little things she says are the best. Today when Brian left for work she told him, "bye, Dad! Have great day at school!"</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhicDpjgkXXPrQerAlJNCQguecLB8760zG2kA8TVWfgEmKYmGSYH_HsyJpxFJdgk1pTsGXtXH7jIaagd5gpSuJenoyVivzlIUcUFvePqpWeJPMChMjRzCbXPuZ770kyOpgmcU_kUiSaMaji/s640/blogger-image--1213350301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhicDpjgkXXPrQerAlJNCQguecLB8760zG2kA8TVWfgEmKYmGSYH_HsyJpxFJdgk1pTsGXtXH7jIaagd5gpSuJenoyVivzlIUcUFvePqpWeJPMChMjRzCbXPuZ770kyOpgmcU_kUiSaMaji/s640/blogger-image--1213350301.jpg"></a></div><br>Patrick is still a giant, easy going guy. He just turned 16 months but at his 15 month appointment he was 99th percentile for height and 100th percentile for weight. He has most, if not all, of his teeth. He actually got 8 teeth in about a two week span in November. That was joyous. (Insert sarcastic face here) He also got his first hair cut and did really well. I'm always paranoid when people ask me if I think his hair color will change. I definitely hope it doesn't change! <br><br>People always think he is older than he is but he is still such a sweet, snuggle bug! I'll probably be calling him my baby until he's 50 ;)</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBuvX7LWoQPg8UO3g-pWPc7cO9fkpmEFtFqbGNIfrjQOFSguicmGgDyk5Hs0bp1BQ_oCjWGXg5tjK8lqjkzvtB6btZF0yhE_k09SJf09RdKd67X0er34V9c4CObPjS8anF5Ad9H2wqeOFM/s640/blogger-image-684899513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBuvX7LWoQPg8UO3g-pWPc7cO9fkpmEFtFqbGNIfrjQOFSguicmGgDyk5Hs0bp1BQ_oCjWGXg5tjK8lqjkzvtB6btZF0yhE_k09SJf09RdKd67X0er34V9c4CObPjS8anF5Ad9H2wqeOFM/s640/blogger-image-684899513.jpg"></a></div><br>He's been crawling up the stairs for at least several months (before he could walk) but we're just now tackling going down a couple stairs at a time. He can do about 2-3 but it's by far my least favorite thing "to teach", and I'm not pushing it. Though I sometimes do daydream of the day that I'm not carrying 33 pounds of big boy baby down the stairs.<br><br>His favorite things are cars, hands down, no question. It's all he really wants to play with. Every vehicle is "car". Trains are cars. Buses are cars. You get the gist. He easily says "car" at least 50 times a day. It is his most used word followed closely by "mama". <br><br>He plays a game with me where he says, "mama", and I say back to him "baby". It can go on for a veryyyy long time: him calling me mama and me calling him baby. <br><br>He likes to dance. He likes to wave. He likes to just do a lot of random babbling.<br><br>The words he has said: car, mama, dada, hi, bye, pumpkin, pizza, banana, apple, cupcake, ball, dog, and Winnie. He is starting to learn his animal sounds and I've heard him say "moo" and "baa". He picked up the toy phone a couple days ago and said, "hi!" Don't ask me why but that is always one of my favorite things. <br><br>He can climb onto the couch (terrifying). <br><br>He loves crawling into Hartley's big girl bed. They love to wrestle each other on it. <br><br>Hartley has learned that Patrick is her "little brudder", and that she is his sister. She is bossy to him at times but also loves him fiercely. She has no problem telling him, "no, stop, Pattick!" But if he drops something, she'll get it for him. If he cries, she'll come to comfort him, and tell him, "it's okay, Pattick". She'll notify me when, "Pattick's crying" or "Pattick's sad". She still calls him "Pattick", no R, which I've actually started doing, too! Poor guy will be nice and confused by the time us girls are done with him. Hartley calls herself "hart-wee". She'll tell me, "I Hartwee!" It's adorable! </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLj10VYCjZ3SkdhlFtm-J3zHOMssCTtxYPx_v4ZmoEvydAXTtmyoXXaFnif23Kd8hWIiLdm5dGxDy-QGfb2IuK6c0MkS4-_ZhQtIIsxQJAK0iNchWzCfhEfaCEY44NjA6Qy-YpFLwzIZSe/s640/blogger-image--143960791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLj10VYCjZ3SkdhlFtm-J3zHOMssCTtxYPx_v4ZmoEvydAXTtmyoXXaFnif23Kd8hWIiLdm5dGxDy-QGfb2IuK6c0MkS4-_ZhQtIIsxQJAK0iNchWzCfhEfaCEY44NjA6Qy-YpFLwzIZSe/s640/blogger-image--143960791.jpg"></a></div><br>Wow, I just wrote a novel! But I've been meaning to write this. I want to remember this stage. It is honestly my favorite so far. It is the most exhausting but it's also the most rewarding. I know I'm not supposed to say this but I'm more of a kid-person than a baby-person. So I've been enjoying seeing my kids run around together, hearing them talk, and seeing them light up over all things Christmas. I can't lie, it hasn't been a sobby emoticon chapter for me - it's been more like I'm seeing the real fun beginning to start! </span><br style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></div></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-81623769444037064542016-12-08T12:38:00.001-08:002016-12-08T12:50:30.003-08:002016Last night I asked Brian to wake me up before the kids got up so I could take a shower and start my day off bright eyed and bushy tailed. But in sticking with the current trend in our house it was another night of broken sleep. This is due to a very picky 2 year old who wakes unable to find one of her dozens of stuffed friends whose lost under a sea of blankets. Brian and I both have some OCD tendencies so our genes have meddled together to make the ultimate "everything must be just so" toddler. And it must be just so at 1 am, 2 am, 3 am. You get the gist ;)<div><br></div><div>I digress as sleeplessness continues to eat away at my brain. </div><div><br></div><div>I was too lazy and tired to drag my butt into the shower. I rolled over and grabbed my phone off the charger and clicked open Facebook. A horrible habit but maybe something broke overnight that I absolutely must know about. But today right at the top of my newsfeed is my year in review. I watch it to see what Facebook deems the highlights. I'm assuming they are based on likes because the pictures aren't ones that mean a great deal to me. Then my mind drifts as to what defined this year for me. </div><div><br></div><div>All in all, it was a good year. But it was one of those mixed years. I entered into it blissfully unaware of the challenges that would be faced. Though I will say, I also got to experience immeasurable joys and triumphs, too. I felt like it was a rather defining year. I learned a lot about myself, along with the other people in my life. I got to meet warriors through my volunteer work. I got to meet real life heroes through our journey with Hartley. </div><div><br></div><div>I actually saw that TIME magazine came out with their person of the year for 2016. My person of the year for this year was a tie between a few people! </div><div><br></div><div>Brian was one of them. This year we celebrated a decade since our very first date. An anniversary on a calendar that went celebrated at the Reston Holiday parade with our kids. But he didn't earn person of the year for some date on the calendar. He won person of the year because as we muddled through more uncharted life territory this year, we came out the other side stronger, with our bond strengthened. We had moments this year where we fell to pieces and picked each other up. He also wins because of how hard-working he is. He excelled this year as a first year Senior Manager. And even as work piled up, almost every single night this year (a few exceptions for work events or travel) he managed to come home and help with the kids' baths and bedtime routine. He gave me "nights off" where I heard laughter just pour out of my children and echo through the hallway. Spoiler alert, I anticipate him being my person of the year every year but this year was extra special. I saw him grow and flourish in his role of world's greatest dad, and he held my hand tighter than anybody when we got Hartley's ASD diagnosis. This year reaffirmed him as my life choice because I realized together we can handle whatever curveball life throws our way.</div><div><br></div><div>Secondly, another "person of the year" is Hartley's teachers, along with her speech therapist and the other various professionals who have been of immense support to us this year. Her school truly has made an incredible positive impact on our lives. As I brainstorm the words to use on her teachers holiday cards, there will never be words I can find to adequately describe my gratitude. They have given my daughter a voice. She speaks so much more clearly and purposefully and is so much more engaging. This holiday season I am getting to enjoy my daughter in a way I never could've imagined even a mere few months ago, and I know it is because of these incredible women who have truly found their calling in life. I thought sending Hartley to preschool would be hard but seeing her light up at drop and make phenomenal progress, I feel so lucky and blessed on what a great change it has been for us. Her speech therapist, who we used to see all the time, became such a source of comfort and support. I swear sometimes I felt like she was my therapist more than Hartley's!</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div>I <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">made some great new friends this year. I'm so thankful for these new friends and old friends. Thankful for the moments we've gotten to laugh together, high five eachother or just help keep one another afloat. I've also learned who is there when the chips are down, which is always a good and bad thing. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">ASD certainly didn't define our year but I entered into a world I knew very little about. I took it to my blog because a lot of days I didn't know where else to turn. And I feel very lucky at the kind reception and helpful words passed mine and my family's way. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Then there were all those amazing milestones that happened in 2016. First foods. First words. First crawls. First holidays. First steps. Birthdays. Vacations. Field trips. I got to watch my childrens' sibling relationship blossom and grow. I got to hear my daughter tell me she loves me for the first time. I got to see pool splashing, ballerina twirling and crayon masterpiece creation. Even on they days where it was applying boo boo busters, breaking up fights, and picking up 57 thousand Cheerios, it truly has been a blessing. Because even through the tiredness fog and exhaustion, at the end of the day I know we are beyond blessed. We are happy, healthy and thriving, and we get to have eachother. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I'm rolling into 2017, my mind flurried with resolutions I swear I'll keep this year ;) I've decided to forever give up on keeping my house cleaner or losing 20 pounds. But I have thoughts of how to bring more calm and peace into my life.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I'm getting away from myself! We still have several more weeks to 2016. I'll brag - we Cranes are kicking ass at celebrating Christmas. Eventually a photo diary entry perhaps. I'm LOVING Christmas will little ones. We're not even to the big day yet, and I'm already feeling like this is my favorite Christmas ever! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But to my Facebook year in review, I'm not sure you hit the nail on the head in your little depiction of my 2016 so I decided to get all wordy with my own version ;) it's been a good year, a growing year and I'm pretty excited to see what 2017 has in store! </span></div><div><br></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-99454430264908492016-11-20T17:17:00.001-08:002016-11-20T17:17:02.144-08:00Pushing<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It's kind of crazy that we're more than halfway through November. This month has been very good to our family. We've seen two noteworthy changes/milestones: Hartley moving into her "big girl bed" and Patrick getting his first haircut. We've had a lot of fun enjoying the nice weather though we're not loving how early it now gets dark out! The kids and I have been battling gross colds - 'tis the season. And we've been greatly anticipating the upcoming holidays! <br><br>I've come to my space today to talk a little bit about a new goal we have for Hartley. <br><br>Brian, Patrick and I all had the pleasure of attending Hartley's Thanksgiving luncheon at school. Brian and I had really been looking forward to it. We'd been so eager to see her in her environment with her new friends. The teachers definitely told us it would be more chaotic than their typical day so I was expecting pure craziness but I was amazed at how orderly the class is!<br><br>That morning before we left, I was out with Winnie and got to talking to my neighbor. She was telling me to treasure these school events because they really are such special times. We definitely did treasure it. Brian took off work for it. We brought Patrick along. Our whole little family enjoyed the exciting first! <br><br>We did come to realize that Hartley had the most difficulty sitting still and staying in her seat out of all of her classmates. Her teacher had actually brought this up to me recently, and I told her it was a work in progress for us. Its a struggle during every ballet class; she loves to move. But then, being in her classroom and seeing her relative to her classmates, it kind of clicked for Brian and I a little more. We both enjoyed our time but I think afterwards we both kind of felt like we haven't been pushing her as hard as we should. <br><br>Something that I'm learning firsthand is how differently people learn. I always have thought that if you told your child what to do and modeled it yourself, your child would just learn it. It's pretty wild but as Patrick grows, I'm watching things just click very naturally for him. Whereas with Hartley, we have to actively teach her things, and even then, our "teaching" doesn't always work. <br><br>Brian and I are both very soft parents. Instinctually, we like to see our children happy. So sometimes when we try to teach Hartley things, and we see her struggle and become frustrated, we pull back a little. <br><br>Hartley, while very intelligent, naturally struggles a little bit more with following directions, learning self care, etc. And while she is a really happy kid, she gets very frustrated when things are hard for her, which is understandable. Brian and I hate seeing her feel frustrated and defeated so we stop pushing her. <br><br>Well, on Thanksgiving lunch day, I felt like such a bad mom. Hartley was the only child who didn't want to sit in her seat to eat. I was going to let her just get up and walk around because I didn't want to cause a scene but her teacher made her sit. Hartley hated it but her teacher pushed her to do it anyway. She talked to us about making her sit at home. <br><br>Both Brian and I turned to each other when we got in the car, and we could tell what the other was thinking - we have to start trying harder. I think we have to start accepting that some things aren't going to come naturally so we have to push more. Sometimes we're going to have to work on and practice things with Hartley that might come more naturally to other kids. <br><br>We love that our daughter is happy. She truly is a wonderfully spirited, sweet, happy child. Neither of us want to become hard asses but we need to start raising the bar. Just because something is unpleasant and hard, doesn't mean we can avoid or continue to postpone learning it.<br><br>There's such a delicate balance in raising children. You need to push but also comfort. You want them to be happy but you also want them to grow and move forward, even if it's challenging to do so. For me, this is actually my biggest challenge as a parent. I think I'll be struggling with balance as long as I live. <br><br>Our first night of having her sit for dinner, we tried to get her to take 5 bites of her dinner. She's atypical in the way that she doesn't understand things like "take 5 bites of your meal and you get dessert". She's a picky eater, and at this point, she can't be reasoned with. So we actually were unable to get her to take any bites of her dinner. We tried very hard and stayed strong for what seemed like an eternity. She ultimately broke down and began trying to get herself to throw up. Don't worry, if anyone hosts us for dinner we won't be pushing this hard at your house so you'll be spared that lovely episode ;) She crawled into Brian's lap and clung to him. She hit him a couple times, and continued to cry.<br><br>It was pretty pathetic but both Brian and I started tearing up. We felt so bad for her. It was awful. We weren't crying because she didn't eat her green beans; we cried because she just doesn't understand what we're saying. It's actually really heartbreaking to try to talk to your child and realize they are frustrated because they can't understand what you're asking of them. Earlier I referenced how different brains are. It's sometimes hard for us to watch things click for Patrick at 15 months that Hartley has struggled with for a long time and is only starting to get at close to 3 years. <br><br>Despite not eating dinner, we did cave, and she ate freeze dried apples. We were trying to use those as a reward for trying 5, then 3, then 1 bite of her actual dinner. We were able to get her to sit and stay at the table eating freeze dried apples though, which was a victory for us. <br><br>Tonight she might've eaten a bite or two of her actual dinner. We then gave her a yogurt pouch, and she was able to sit at the table for 14 minutes.<br><br>I write about this to come back and revisit. To remember on the days that I don't feel like fighting these battles, that there is a point to them. She is capable of learning. She will get there. But she needs my help - and Brian's help. And even if I think that this should come more easily than it does, that doesn't really matter. Everyone's journey to learn things is different. It might take longer but she will get there. I need to push myself to push her. Yesterday night was my wake up call to keep forging on. <br><br>Soon I'll come on here and share all of the super cute little moments that have compiled this month but today I had to write this. As we roll into Thanksgiving I'm feeling very thankful for so many things but I'm already feeling that New Year's urge to start anew, too. This is my little way to hold myself accountable. <br></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "></span><br style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZZK5WGvpgeemRz6nxyrROHWmOXkozKrHpMq4YgEKz_47-HddQ7-bna2QdpijPVGyJ_j1pu1wZ9tFJD2Gb1EvdYdGXepS_reLalqFjD1bZLfLWCGggtN5op9C3q88eDf8jUCuP7WSzJrIh/s640/blogger-image-1051133784.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZZK5WGvpgeemRz6nxyrROHWmOXkozKrHpMq4YgEKz_47-HddQ7-bna2QdpijPVGyJ_j1pu1wZ9tFJD2Gb1EvdYdGXepS_reLalqFjD1bZLfLWCGggtN5op9C3q88eDf8jUCuP7WSzJrIh/s640/blogger-image-1051133784.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzLjBkFOpUJlOm9hYsVer8QiXF5AB_W2gXILzcEI9lBOujv7Fl7ggkromOscKUaE_NVkCprXrdhcgocl8Romtzr1SzeWWxldNlGtExOcoadAeN4vCmtFUyAh1G-BhQQ-XbuEmefqRov4z/s640/blogger-image--2083630183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzLjBkFOpUJlOm9hYsVer8QiXF5AB_W2gXILzcEI9lBOujv7Fl7ggkromOscKUaE_NVkCprXrdhcgocl8Romtzr1SzeWWxldNlGtExOcoadAeN4vCmtFUyAh1G-BhQQ-XbuEmefqRov4z/s640/blogger-image--2083630183.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3erSVluZrBDVq3DWpXPx__cmKwETnRYvrxVFhVxlnWtqGTDmmNILiEuJ3eXQS2pm1rkxwcO-z8YjnZC_btsvNZ_1JSx-B0EuB9rrXMYzAAz2MSDDDFEwBp9sx-B7GTwBqBqVp0EY4AM44/s640/blogger-image--783753627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3erSVluZrBDVq3DWpXPx__cmKwETnRYvrxVFhVxlnWtqGTDmmNILiEuJ3eXQS2pm1rkxwcO-z8YjnZC_btsvNZ_1JSx-B0EuB9rrXMYzAAz2MSDDDFEwBp9sx-B7GTwBqBqVp0EY4AM44/s640/blogger-image--783753627.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKOjfFNrL3ZGO7nAcc9aEFehAT07ipkL6EZb5qlGYGNw5INEYE3FHxc6KQAVzYReY6rt6rdEfMioeRxd6rJSWevSFPNS6tHDX9kgh85LZRxHqLg5TAws1LgOYZp60PzT4kZoozRDywvX9s/s640/blogger-image-1898528345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKOjfFNrL3ZGO7nAcc9aEFehAT07ipkL6EZb5qlGYGNw5INEYE3FHxc6KQAVzYReY6rt6rdEfMioeRxd6rJSWevSFPNS6tHDX9kgh85LZRxHqLg5TAws1LgOYZp60PzT4kZoozRDywvX9s/s640/blogger-image-1898528345.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-61995850086167236822016-11-09T08:18:00.001-08:002016-11-09T09:00:16.213-08:00Post Election<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Yesterday started off a little rough. I made the mistake of mentioning to my 2 year old daughter that we were going to the playground with her friend Norah. She doesn't understand time so when I try to explain, "we're leaving in 30 minutes" that means nothing to her. <br><br>She was excited to go to the playground so she sweetly attempted to carry over all 3 pairs of shoes - mine, hers, and Patrick's. This was a goal we worked on for months that just clicked. It's a life changer, by the way. I wanted to give her positive reinforcement because that's what every professional has said I'm supposed to do. So I hurriedly put on everyone's shoes, and figured we'd just get to the playground early. <br><br>Well, when we arrived Norah obviously wasn't there yet. Again, my child is very literal so she begins screaming, "NORAH PLAYGROUND!" over and over and over. No ritz cracker bribe will work to calm her. No redirection is working. She's "hard to redirect" according to professionals. Strangers walking by gave me empathetic looks. Luckily Norah and her mom were there 15 minutes later. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then it was Patrick's turn to fuss. He's getting eight teeth at the same time so he's always on the edge of a meltdown.<br><br>I was able to cheer him up by taking him to chase balls on the tennis court but Hartley was devastated to leave Norah. I explained we'd give Patrick five minutes on the court, then we'd head back to our friends. She wasn't satisfied with this so she balled up her fist and began shoving it down her throat and gagging. Her eyes began to water. And I wanted to cry. She was so mad at me that she was hurting herself. So I went to grab Patrick, and I told her, "we're going to Norah right now. Please stop! It's okay." <br><br>But it was too late. She was too far gone. She began biting her hand. And I fought back tears. I had just gotten to the point a week earlier where I told Norah's mom that Hartley has autism. I wanted her to know why things are sometimes different with Hartley, and I illogically feared if I told her, they wouldn't want to play with us anymore. Now here we were, my son screaming as I've interrupted his play, and my daughter hell bent on knawing off her hand. I said good bye quickly and jogged my stroller away. I told myself we were never going out in public again. I doubted myself, like I always do. <br><br>I decided I wasn't going to vote. I was too tired. I couldn't do it.<br><br>But during nap time, an ad for Hillary came on that I've seen a hundred times this election cycle. There's a clip of Donald Trump mocking someone with disabilities and tears streamed down my face. I couldn't stop them. Poetically, Hartley began to wake. I went in to go get her, and I said, "good morning, baby!" She chirped in a mirroring inflection, "good morning, baby!" She echoes me. She does it less since starting school but all of the professionals we've met with have noticed this about Hartley within minutes of meeting her. I looked into her gorgeous, smiling blue eyes. And again the tears came. In that moment I decided, as hard as taking them to the polls will be, as embarrassed as I might feel at times, I'm doing it. And here it is folks, not PC at all, I wasn't voting for my son or my husband or even myself. I was voting for my daughter who is differently abled. As her mother, I was standing up to a bully. I was going to show how I felt, not my posting a rant on Facebook but rather by exercising my right. <br><br>I uneffectively briber my children with candy and walked with my head held high as I cast my ballot. And on the way home, the tears came again. I had just voted for the better candidate. But I had voted for the first female president with my young daughter right by my side. If that doesn't give you chills, nothing will. I was doing my teeny part to shatter the hell out of that glass ceiling while standing for what I believe in. <br><br>Spoiler alert: my candidate didn't win. <br><br>I gulped back wine. I stayed positive until <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0">2 am</a> when the tears came yet again. But I reminded myself tomorrow was a brand new day. I had and have to be the strong woman I am each and every day. I owe my children that. I may feel surprised, disappointed, and even a little sick to my stomach. But life is no longer about me. It's about my kids and the example I set for them every day. <br><br>If I cuss, they cuss. If I cry, they begin to cry. If I mope and wallow, they'll be sad. They look to me for guidance, positivity and security. And no matter who the president is, this is what I will give them. You can voice your opinions without anger and hatred. You can be strong without instigating. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">If I preach and practice love, acceptance and compassion - I pray my children will do the same someday. If I teach them to find the good in life, I hope it sticks. <br><br>This is how a special needs mother of two feels this post Election Day. You can feel how you feel. You are absolutely entitled to that. But respect my right to do the same.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnLjjZcDufUDd-RhPdS9aep7hr08jm4RFmb83YFZDP1ZAWjZBU_Pmn6ImEreV_3fQE_nYGTw8pB7xZ3eb5g3QJsdKLZzQCFovR_ZPbm3FpuzTXX4UQHVxscc3WFvfH3JyMP8xEUfm-jo-/s640/blogger-image--1529577524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnLjjZcDufUDd-RhPdS9aep7hr08jm4RFmb83YFZDP1ZAWjZBU_Pmn6ImEreV_3fQE_nYGTw8pB7xZ3eb5g3QJsdKLZzQCFovR_ZPbm3FpuzTXX4UQHVxscc3WFvfH3JyMP8xEUfm-jo-/s640/blogger-image--1529577524.jpg"></a></div><br><br><br><br></span></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-32585110689253215762016-11-01T11:53:00.001-07:002016-11-01T16:27:35.178-07:00Our October<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">October was so good to our family. Just consider the bookends: October 1st Patrick took his first steps and October 31st the kids went trick or treating for the first time! <br><br>The month actually started a little oddly. We were thrilled that Patrick decided it was time to start walking and things were really clicking for Hartley at ballet. However, we were in this weird space where we still weren't positive what Hartley's plan for fall was. September we learned she was eligible to receive special education services through the school system, and she received the ASD diagnosis. But we still had no idea if and when she'd start school or how she was going to feel about it. I remember feeling beyond burnt out from months of assessments, appointments and uncertainty. <br><br>But after Hartley's IEP meeting and finding out she would start school, things really got so much better for us. I was nervous for that first day but she really loved it from day one. I credit Pathways to Preschool for our brilliant transition. It really just took about a week for us to settle into our routine, and it already feels like old hat.<br><br>It makes me so happy that she loves school, and Patrick loves his one on one time. Hartley is making great progress. We literally kicked off October with Hartley talking in 1-2 word/phrase labels. We have wrapped it up with her beginning to speak in sentences where she is genuinely expressing her own thoughts. I mean - phenomenal. It has been just one gigantic win for our family and easily my proudest moment of motherhood to date. <br><br>Outside of the accomplishments made this month, we have taken full advantage of the beautiful weather and all of the fall fun that Northern Virginia has to offer! <br><br>The kids have been taking lessons on Saturday mornings. Patrick goes to swimming lessons with Brian, and Hartley does ballet class with me. My mom takes Patrick to music class once a week, which he really enjoys. We have gotten to go to so many fun playgrounds and parks during the week. We reconnected with an old neighbor and having been having weekly play dates with them. </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRW3i0clhidQppGtvZsXmzXfnt-B5f9puKKfZpM94XY3JI4BQ3Qz7M2h__F1LSenX2YEDC9SqLCAzkabvpJIqiyItJOWtZm7VRxGYkq3DdYXqYUzijjB1OoKTIJ-ZeFZjmeJ17psBQMd19/s640/blogger-image-737359041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRW3i0clhidQppGtvZsXmzXfnt-B5f9puKKfZpM94XY3JI4BQ3Qz7M2h__F1LSenX2YEDC9SqLCAzkabvpJIqiyItJOWtZm7VRxGYkq3DdYXqYUzijjB1OoKTIJ-ZeFZjmeJ17psBQMd19/s640/blogger-image-737359041.jpg"></a></div><br>We have done the big fall festivals. We went to Cox Farms. Brian's work has a certain day where they get discounted tickets and reserve a pavilion so we took full advantage of that. However, I have to say, I think the best fall festival is put on by Leesburg Animal Park; they do Pumpkin Village. Well worth the drive. We went once as our little family of four, and then I took the kids during the week so we could go with my sister, her husband, their baby girl, and my mom. The kids really love Pumpkin Village; there's so much for them to do! <br><br>We took them to do the corn pit and a hayride at Krop's Crops in Great Falls. It's a much smaller operation but a fun little thing to do that's only a couple miles from us. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFzbAhjIXd-Wke7-F1SUy6rLygXJ7Iq7mANiLs-nWXwJR9zPeoeflc-N0-mko1eL6KstWXyrNe5nZPiNfR-pyHyOu3Dlt6XPeZOXheIhdeq5S69vG0GSi9tnQpnZTroHKvtEjRGEpL0KF/s640/blogger-image-435490726.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGFzbAhjIXd-Wke7-F1SUy6rLygXJ7Iq7mANiLs-nWXwJR9zPeoeflc-N0-mko1eL6KstWXyrNe5nZPiNfR-pyHyOu3Dlt6XPeZOXheIhdeq5S69vG0GSi9tnQpnZTroHKvtEjRGEpL0KF/s640/blogger-image-435490726.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL8_Rp7iRD2GtKitZ0MR38D4IKqloboEHU6pPV0odFChMs-zdd7d_EMJfsMXPtj7-vVnqwiWYabD8PnL1gKB9DCUU9hEAGh9psDv_b1G82n-dBwFq_eJOVbeTejH_IW2i8ZNHuUllszrb1/s640/blogger-image-1008958075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL8_Rp7iRD2GtKitZ0MR38D4IKqloboEHU6pPV0odFChMs-zdd7d_EMJfsMXPtj7-vVnqwiWYabD8PnL1gKB9DCUU9hEAGh9psDv_b1G82n-dBwFq_eJOVbeTejH_IW2i8ZNHuUllszrb1/s640/blogger-image-1008958075.jpg"></a></div></div><br>Brian was out of town for 5 days in Florida so when he got back he gave me some time off, and he took the kids to the petting zoo. We are annual pass holders and after a couple months we've already got our money's worth out of them! And Brian had another day hanging with the kids when I hosted a friend's baby shower. He took them to Great Falls National Park, and they had a blast. <br><br>I am a member of Herndon MOMS Club, and Patrick and I hosted the Halloween Costume Party Play date the Friday before Halloween. We had a huge turn out, and it was a lot of fun! <br><br>Then we ended the month by trick or treating in my parents' neighborhood. The kids were Ariel and Sebastian (from The Little Mermaid) for Halloween. I was worried for how it would go. Obviously Patrick was too young to really participate but I wasn't sure how Hartley would do. Well, it went AMAZING. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB9D7PKWLFLnFDqgTipVyhKt7zQA-Jp3ygnRK3odN4NB17dpvKjVG6QVC2Ua4an71JSc_dpqYrayK8iz8yqZPyYrsQFZnuUjUirfs4NA2inbOejHEVf77DBY6zUHVf9t2nndTR5rSfJWwT/s640/blogger-image-943748035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB9D7PKWLFLnFDqgTipVyhKt7zQA-Jp3ygnRK3odN4NB17dpvKjVG6QVC2Ua4an71JSc_dpqYrayK8iz8yqZPyYrsQFZnuUjUirfs4NA2inbOejHEVf77DBY6zUHVf9t2nndTR5rSfJWwT/s640/blogger-image-943748035.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4bnUcXF3XSTmCwIZnpJhQipEsidODypeRkCAcHxKz-h5kO2uH3zMU06_a-K4gg4TZngWON4BHYFDsCQtalVilHoeJWqjHbA2xvwgETqSnwXl1IVZEWOOjYtew7rDLuKzmWGHDW-GEghaA/s640/blogger-image-1312053131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4bnUcXF3XSTmCwIZnpJhQipEsidODypeRkCAcHxKz-h5kO2uH3zMU06_a-K4gg4TZngWON4BHYFDsCQtalVilHoeJWqjHbA2xvwgETqSnwXl1IVZEWOOjYtew7rDLuKzmWGHDW-GEghaA/s640/blogger-image-1312053131.jpg"></a></div></div><br>We ate pizza for dinner at my parents' house, then practiced knocking on their door and saying "trick or treat" and "thank you". Then we were on our way. Hartley loved dressing as Ariel, and after her first couple houses, she totally "got it". Then she was on a roll, and we were just going house to house like it was our job. Patrick rode in the wagon nibbling on cookies and Rice Krispie treats so needless to say, he was a happy Sebastian.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWi44iU3bcKgg0mz5UiWC24Qdt6hMQwH6fJxrKBmUXZg69APkeOzHxmT02r-3nOhDPKra4v_2CbndRf2Iwqb3p0507vFqIRE9pv590DCQ7WaVJlXtz_XMMwsTaIDQauJWu47swVV7mBcp3/s640/blogger-image-1499751276.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWi44iU3bcKgg0mz5UiWC24Qdt6hMQwH6fJxrKBmUXZg69APkeOzHxmT02r-3nOhDPKra4v_2CbndRf2Iwqb3p0507vFqIRE9pv590DCQ7WaVJlXtz_XMMwsTaIDQauJWu47swVV7mBcp3/s640/blogger-image-1499751276.jpg"></a></div></div><br>Hartley did a great job saying "trick or treat" and "thank you so much!" One house she actually said, "thank you, sir!" and I couldn't help but laugh. It was so cute. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFhnYhTzOB77pkawiaG_hWL9aUymYYglapyiT120ARdUfkFQT2LoRpAZxghM8ymZp3HLpkiFmzxPQcK8z-l63S5qwCgWnYaLLCmTjAtrazKCvJy9h5u2XUahY1tXHKi2A0lAEX446o1E9/s640/blogger-image-1869554432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFhnYhTzOB77pkawiaG_hWL9aUymYYglapyiT120ARdUfkFQT2LoRpAZxghM8ymZp3HLpkiFmzxPQcK8z-l63S5qwCgWnYaLLCmTjAtrazKCvJy9h5u2XUahY1tXHKi2A0lAEX446o1E9/s640/blogger-image-1869554432.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uc96OCo2EeR8ntGZfJmrW17ohNoXefKS9EtvbtOScQsT5bx0n8zCrEzno_RRlAhgUfh2x9nNBaZ53FBBdTvlUJex-Fo4WaDN7o9PaCW4hfP1oScfYaIeA059uZuKP5GyrNroLk7svrGS/s640/blogger-image-482087569.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uc96OCo2EeR8ntGZfJmrW17ohNoXefKS9EtvbtOScQsT5bx0n8zCrEzno_RRlAhgUfh2x9nNBaZ53FBBdTvlUJex-Fo4WaDN7o9PaCW4hfP1oScfYaIeA059uZuKP5GyrNroLk7svrGS/s640/blogger-image-482087569.jpg"></a></div></div><br>We couldn't have done it without our posse: Nana, Poppy, and Aunt Caroline (who dressed as Ursula - amazing). We all took turns walking Hartley up to the doors, and I think she relished in all of the attention. It was so sweet to see her proudly walking around in her sequined costume taking turns holding hands and knocking on doors with all of us. She truly was the sweetest Ariel. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ2QzjIMOJsq9iPNJPQqNIHpTEMtKmRo7QtgDr0skPY67UKyZYg3gfKPgy3YRnkagL_VGqh1pNkVvkeASxW2G8MoZYnkLUtMfjjQZEXeG_b4QhsdNusaHpI4GfOrLKDs6ZaWNXVD-BTTdu/s640/blogger-image-1407048537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ2QzjIMOJsq9iPNJPQqNIHpTEMtKmRo7QtgDr0skPY67UKyZYg3gfKPgy3YRnkagL_VGqh1pNkVvkeASxW2G8MoZYnkLUtMfjjQZEXeG_b4QhsdNusaHpI4GfOrLKDs6ZaWNXVD-BTTdu/s640/blogger-image-1407048537.jpg"></a></div><br>I'm hoping November brings us the same luck for more progress and lots of happy moments and creating more special memories. It truly is a month to feel thankful. <br><br>Hope everyone else had a wonderful October and is able to find many things to be thankful for this month :)</span></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-36421271615544611182016-10-28T17:35:00.001-07:002016-10-28T18:18:22.879-07:00Spurts<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My babies are growing up so fast. And I don't mean that in the sense that most mothers will follow up with the sobbing face emoticon. The past few weeks of our lives have been this incredible spurt. I feel like I'm throwing up a peace sign to infancy in my rear view, and dare I say, I'm not sad about it!</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguIZKl8N2EZGQl6r6N2BnInfhyAORqhWv2c_z7c86Eas2u1anx3uFeeofpmB3bd4iUFztSTdY_XAil-cn5jtaZYLk3QxixxoZYEOVb5Rbth5TwpVroM08S3_sX3dIgZsRSpr6pU8rMpT0S/s640/blogger-image-1014248603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguIZKl8N2EZGQl6r6N2BnInfhyAORqhWv2c_z7c86Eas2u1anx3uFeeofpmB3bd4iUFztSTdY_XAil-cn5jtaZYLk3QxixxoZYEOVb5Rbth5TwpVroM08S3_sX3dIgZsRSpr6pU8rMpT0S/s640/blogger-image-1014248603.jpg"></a></div><br>Hartley is blossoming so much before my very eyes. Every day she becomes sweeter, more vocal, and some how even more beautiful and little girl looking. Her love for school and learning is incredible. And I keep fearing I'll jinx it by typing it but I swear preschool has been working true wonders! <br><br>Hartley has always been a very sweet, sensitive little girl but now hearing her voice is truly amazing. When Patrick cries, she comes over to comfort him, and she tells him, "it's okay, Patrick". And if she needs help fixing the situation she'll come over and tell me, "Patrick sad, mama." She says it with such empathy and concern. I've always known she has a kind heart but now her language is making it undeniable. <br><br>She has begun using manners. The other night when I came up to readjust her in her crib, she said, "thank you so much, mama." She just recently started saying "I love you" to me, and it moves me to tears.<br><br>She is soaking up the world around her like a sponge. Every day are new words, new phrases and a more advanced way of speaking.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPgUFaOnD8fVTSAEhOvnjxPD7FRA1pQGSmKUc2Ty-HrycgWUc1pwnbNMLCIrLuZT0ZZ1Hu4PU_zP-Ywo5XAF-FuM73VBKY-gT5gk9uQ6vRxUA_tPpnae9nk5fqSR-jI3U4ScVcvJyoV9OV/s640/blogger-image--933280794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPgUFaOnD8fVTSAEhOvnjxPD7FRA1pQGSmKUc2Ty-HrycgWUc1pwnbNMLCIrLuZT0ZZ1Hu4PU_zP-Ywo5XAF-FuM73VBKY-gT5gk9uQ6vRxUA_tPpnae9nk5fqSR-jI3U4ScVcvJyoV9OV/s640/blogger-image--933280794.jpg"></a></div><br>She is always telling me that things are beautiful, cute and sweet. She has such a perfect sense of pride. And I've heard that she always tries to be helpful with her classmates. <br><br>I have to say, sometimes I questioned my abilities as a mother because my child wasn't always doing what her peers were doing. But honestly, now that she's getting this little boost to help her come out of her shell, I'm getting to reep what I've sewn, and I'm proud beyond words. <br><br>And all of a sudden, I'm having a few hours each morning to bond with Patrick, and I am truly floored at the little person he is becoming. I know this sounds awful to say but having been my chill child, I've been able to put him on the back burner a bit. I've said it before, juggling two little ones is hard. But I am so extremely grateful to finally get this one on one time with him to bond and soak him in. <br><br>He is also learning at a truly astounding rate. Not only is he walking around everywhere, but he is starting to follow directions! Yes, you read that correctly. He listens when I say "no", and he walks to the door when I tell him it's time to go somewhere. He's starting to repeat words - and not just easy words either. I was floored the other day when I handed him a cupcake, and he said clear as a bell, "CUP-Kay!" One day he said the word "car" about 50 times. He kept running up the driveway to see our neighbor's pick up truck. All the way he'd say, "car! Car! Car!"</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgzCbmVsYWyr1xS1Lo8k0abic1Vm2sMe2PQdLG1tayfhdSrLrZTMBXUhI9JnWzGgozbaenEu94akhA6WYC34c6aWZBh2OJUaKo-I3MYcXZ3pJEYZiUbvc3_BF58N2WK7tNzv71246aMpxO/s640/blogger-image-319428864.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgzCbmVsYWyr1xS1Lo8k0abic1Vm2sMe2PQdLG1tayfhdSrLrZTMBXUhI9JnWzGgozbaenEu94akhA6WYC34c6aWZBh2OJUaKo-I3MYcXZ3pJEYZiUbvc3_BF58N2WK7tNzv71246aMpxO/s640/blogger-image-319428864.jpg"></a></div><br>He also has this impressive love of books. The other day he was walking around carrying a book. I asked him to bring it to me to read, and he walked right over with it. Then he crawled into my lap, and smiled and clapped as I read. His favorite book is Pete The Cat I Love My White Shoes. I think more Pete the Cat books will be on his Christmas list.<br><br>I feel like I'm learning so much more about Patrick now that we have our special time together. He is so playful and engaging. He truly is a social butterfly. He loves other children but especially other little boys. I think he knows they are his kind! He really loves little people, trucks and instruments. He loves being sung to. And he, like Hartley, is so wonderfully proud of himself when he masters a new skill. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkajrxDAN6QYD6mqIK453HQ0Ed42FmIjYhO5XzMeMQvPOEJ730Y7X4_UJ4auXgqB_WMJRkMCGRFqIJHBoZFxVFS13TvdlTqCnUU2d6TDTJxjmdGlhUldRJw1ludE0K1zIWExGXfyES6brI/s640/blogger-image--976039328.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkajrxDAN6QYD6mqIK453HQ0Ed42FmIjYhO5XzMeMQvPOEJ730Y7X4_UJ4auXgqB_WMJRkMCGRFqIJHBoZFxVFS13TvdlTqCnUU2d6TDTJxjmdGlhUldRJw1ludE0K1zIWExGXfyES6brI/s640/blogger-image--976039328.jpg"></a></div><br>Hartley and Patrick are incredibly close. I have no idea what I did to create their bond (well, other than the fact that they've been forced to hang out together all day every day up until preschool started). When I stroll Patrick up to pick Hartley up from school, her face lights up. She looks right past me, and runs up to him screaming, "PAAATTICK!" Sometimes we drop off the "R" too. He might learn his name as Pattick ;) They seem to have their own secret language. The other day when I was fixing their dinner, I put them in the family room to watch Sesame Street. They ripped off all the couch cushions, pillows and throws and made a cushion pit. They were wrestling, snuggling and laughing. In that moment all of the craziness of having kids 18 months apart felt so damn worth it. <br><br>Don't get me wrong, our lives right now are still tiring. People still skip naps and get grouchy. I do have to referee fights. But all in all, I'm absolutely loving this new chapter we've just begun. I feel incredibly happy and proud. I feel like this preschool has been a big, positive game changer for our family. <br><br>I know there are big changes and challenges that lie ahead. Soon we need to do the big girl bed transition and start potty training. I'm sure our existence will be turned sideways again. But for now I'm savoring this chapter of marker caps in my boots, poncho-worthy double kid baths, pumpkin obsessions, and Sesame Street snuggles. And oh, looking forward to coordinating Halloween costumes and our first Christmas in our house. I'm getting a mantle for stockings for the first time! (Thanks, dad!) </span></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-28864554302062437282016-10-19T08:15:00.001-07:002016-10-19T08:15:21.242-07:00Changes<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The theme of the last few weeks of our lives has been "changes". Two big things have happened: Patrick has started walking and Hartley has started preschool. <br><br>And I've got to be honest, I am so genuinely excited about both. <br><br>I am absolutely loving watching Patrick do his little baby dinosaur walk around the house. I love his wobbly steps and watching him light up with pride. And somehow this seems to have shifted the sibling dynamic. It feels like it's made them closer, like Hartley is viewing Patrick more like an equal as opposed to a baby. Of course, she's still bossing him around big sister style though!</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzG0FPR1EVne-djjl7zjrlP3uFnDQfAMa2nhTBiehxPa9wKKzDeXgq5R4rzjXgPUNEV2nkpNrdRecAyd769jl4nSkuNaEH-mRjQw0xk0QfoV7YH7Fip5FhDVy0lWUJlZU8kMsCjQfuhRJ1/s640/blogger-image--1284109822.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzG0FPR1EVne-djjl7zjrlP3uFnDQfAMa2nhTBiehxPa9wKKzDeXgq5R4rzjXgPUNEV2nkpNrdRecAyd769jl4nSkuNaEH-mRjQw0xk0QfoV7YH7Fip5FhDVy0lWUJlZU8kMsCjQfuhRJ1/s640/blogger-image--1284109822.jpg"></a></div><br>If I'm out with Patrick without Hartley, people assume he's my first and only, and they give me the whole, "walking is a game changer" spiel. I'll admit, I've been guilty of telling this to first time moms who haven't gotten there yet because it is a fact of life! But with Patrick, it was a good time to start walking. Hartley took her first steps at 10 months; she was a very early walker. And I did not want a repeat of that! But with Hartley now learning to follow directions a little bit better, and having several hours of day of solely wrangling Patrick, his learning to walk actually came at the perfect time for us.<br><br>Hartley starting preschool has also been another happy change. The road we traveled the past 7-8 months had been hard and stressful. Both Brian and I are relieved to have received a diagnosis for her and have a plan in place for the next year that is already set into motion. I think because our situation is a little different, I was actually not a sobbing mess about "my baby growing up" when the time to start school arrived. That first day I was mainly just very excited and of course a little nervous for what she would think.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>It turns out, our girl loves preschool. She happily holds my hand each day as we walk to drop off. When she sees her teachers she greets them with a hug or goes to hold their hand. It's such a huge relief. She really has transitioned beautifully.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbbSKpcZMP8XvJDz9UdKKkAwRw7IqAsWBk7oTZL7wgKNJ036FS15ksnEI5nWroAbjysfTzkO37ebm0ktBroLNpii8U0uDImbNC1F0u-gxR3_rKd0lbhwkACrthQBgyWxg0gpcvvMIvAnOh/s640/blogger-image-1895492331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbbSKpcZMP8XvJDz9UdKKkAwRw7IqAsWBk7oTZL7wgKNJ036FS15ksnEI5nWroAbjysfTzkO37ebm0ktBroLNpii8U0uDImbNC1F0u-gxR3_rKd0lbhwkACrthQBgyWxg0gpcvvMIvAnOh/s640/blogger-image-1895492331.jpg"></a></div><br>Each day I pick her up and she's happy and tired. Usually there's evidence of the school lunch she tried somewhere on her face and some paint from art center on her clothes. It's an adorable sight. She gets a report everyday; it often reads the same. Every day she's received a smiley for behavior. Every day she's played with friends. She always at least tries her school lunch. I may eventually pack her lunch but I actually decided this would be a fun way to get her to try new foods and so far it's been great.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGabpikc7vj_sCGUENwHNHVJyHKFAwypmJoTWQhnkkNlhqJAQZl0KV2xW598CZ5qvDQI9948OeLrITeHhVobV9KaX88VFDaA_0C3hsLGYGEbdtNrIuz18tVanKJfOslXE3C4EFetTc8O7I/s640/blogger-image-1821076885.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGabpikc7vj_sCGUENwHNHVJyHKFAwypmJoTWQhnkkNlhqJAQZl0KV2xW598CZ5qvDQI9948OeLrITeHhVobV9KaX88VFDaA_0C3hsLGYGEbdtNrIuz18tVanKJfOslXE3C4EFetTc8O7I/s640/blogger-image-1821076885.jpg"></a></div><br>Her first week of school was Apple theme so they did Apple themed activities, and this week is pumpkin theme. She checked out her first library book. She picked one about the Chinese New Year that hadn't been checked out in years, and it definitely made Brian and I laugh when we saw her silly book choice when it came home in her backpack. <br><br>I also don't want to get too ahead of myself but I swear this preschool is already "helping". Since starting she's been more focused. It's hard to describe and it's not like she's completely done some miraculous 180 but she's more engaged. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZFbucZsfqhhZK5eAWFRooF9CsEVqb1gIuHH_etchS8cZqSvfJrprff5YZ6w8VfaqEIm0qicIzf080-KnBypl5wq3ka7xYcNTsBEuc8OoK-V-TAcQWcf_I68s9bv24OkjhKrKD3KDtnIb/s640/blogger-image-828841480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ZFbucZsfqhhZK5eAWFRooF9CsEVqb1gIuHH_etchS8cZqSvfJrprff5YZ6w8VfaqEIm0qicIzf080-KnBypl5wq3ka7xYcNTsBEuc8OoK-V-TAcQWcf_I68s9bv24OkjhKrKD3KDtnIb/s640/blogger-image-828841480.jpg"></a></div><br>Something I'm learning about children on the autism spectrum (and this is a generalization so I realize it doesn't fit everyone) is that their development is less linear than typically developing children. They tend to have more of a mixture of developments and regressions. This is completely true of Hartley. We can have good weeks followed by a bad week where she's kind of "off" for lack of a better word. But since starting school, we have stayed in an upswing, which is absolutely fantastic. I don't want to get ahead of myself but I just have to say I am so happy with the school system's decision for her to attend this preschool. I really feel like early intervention will be our golden ticket, and I'm so happy that we're moving in the right direction.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwhWQ9j0uWw0bwxTPzPrwcbl1tQS5Hpe9L4BlWoy-YpiKM7fgjJhMfCBjJutjp2PuKFntvaSu9v0_FB-3JGptlfp4Bo1rsaVymWJOsXQbRBsVODkyMvPd9QeLbPJYvSGz4IuCcU5veK4f/s640/blogger-image-1256559477.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPwhWQ9j0uWw0bwxTPzPrwcbl1tQS5Hpe9L4BlWoy-YpiKM7fgjJhMfCBjJutjp2PuKFntvaSu9v0_FB-3JGptlfp4Bo1rsaVymWJOsXQbRBsVODkyMvPd9QeLbPJYvSGz4IuCcU5veK4f/s640/blogger-image-1256559477.jpg"></a></div><br>Sometimes I think when big changes happen we have the tendency to mourn the past, especially when it comes to our children growing. But right now, I'm just so happy to see both of my children growing and moving forward. While a 1 year old and 2 year old are pretty tiring ages (ok, honestly, exhausting ages), they are also pretty magical. I'm very excited to see what lies ahead for my crazy TODDLERS! That's right, I think now that Patty is walking, I'm a real, bonafide mom of two toddlers!</span></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8619292116661962250.post-89579633034774937632016-10-04T16:45:00.001-07:002016-10-04T16:46:45.997-07:00Life in PicturesToday I got to thinking about how Hartley will probably start preschool soon. I am so happy and excited for her but I also got to thinking how it was the end of an era. The era of our 3 person crew adventuring together on weekday mornings. <div><br></div><div>I often talk about my feelings of inadequacy as a mother. My house is always dirty, I'm always tired, I never look put together anymore, etc. </div><div><br></div><div>But today as I drove home from a park play date I realized something - I'm always so hard on myself in any and every way that I fall short. I almost never toot my horn about the things I do well.</div><div><br></div><div>If I were to compile a list or a bunch of pictures of all the things I've done over the last 2 years and 8 months of my life (when I became a stay at home mom), it would go on for days. I often think I'm failing because I look or feel a mess or I'm tired. But I look a mess because I never take time out for myself to to get prettied up, and I'm always tired because I'm always busy making memories with with my kids.</div><div><br></div><div>I can't keep up with a blog to chronicle all of the fun things we do because we're busy doing them. </div><div><br></div><div>And I can't possibly come on here and talk about our days. Too much to write. Too much to say and not enough time to say it. </div><div><br></div><div>So I decided to come on here and put up some of my favorite pictures from the past couple months. Park picnics, playgrounds, the petting zoo, the beach, the pool, the town center, the backyard, play dates, nana & poppy field trips, ballet/music lessons/swimming lessons - the list could go on. </div><div><br></div><div>I swear, if I could trade lives with someone - it would be my kids. They have such fun little lives! I'm hoping we have a couple more weeks of this existence before preschool starts and our third musketeer is busy getting her learn on :) </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyiTryk6KjkYEAawwe36M-67PdHK7KOuGmkE0JzJKhF02yOVKv2RuaA4YW-CuOmsmwW7SJ7ztUTTnP9QjbgUw6PUSKrB1l9UOUOqmJiAP1RyFsFznEQiGlPXzbwVZRgYS0IuF_drjWxAeZ/s640/blogger-image-1083357831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyiTryk6KjkYEAawwe36M-67PdHK7KOuGmkE0JzJKhF02yOVKv2RuaA4YW-CuOmsmwW7SJ7ztUTTnP9QjbgUw6PUSKrB1l9UOUOqmJiAP1RyFsFznEQiGlPXzbwVZRgYS0IuF_drjWxAeZ/s640/blogger-image-1083357831.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDF2Xb_04tiKlYbLieN3G8wkPGyVTVP47jgw7lcqtzscbWh52e_gzbIKpDa_onr4pIA7I8lW6meXu4kDG4Plvyv8n9mzx0p7hb-AjvVWY1UvOY1TQAL9XuSo5J4LwxKi8cTr7oEzsPOzW/s640/blogger-image--716047317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDF2Xb_04tiKlYbLieN3G8wkPGyVTVP47jgw7lcqtzscbWh52e_gzbIKpDa_onr4pIA7I8lW6meXu4kDG4Plvyv8n9mzx0p7hb-AjvVWY1UvOY1TQAL9XuSo5J4LwxKi8cTr7oEzsPOzW/s640/blogger-image--716047317.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUY-8JQn1wcf0fM_lVVznR8KyGUISMTeISSeu0WsO2AA4jtqgsaaoZNQg0IiohbRjtt7esxhKX6s863VbkbTGvqCC-o6cxl9XQnyxARcr7qpYJaCahMBQCA7E2DFfAXVIN2R8ZChKvyzVa/s640/blogger-image-2106930755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUY-8JQn1wcf0fM_lVVznR8KyGUISMTeISSeu0WsO2AA4jtqgsaaoZNQg0IiohbRjtt7esxhKX6s863VbkbTGvqCC-o6cxl9XQnyxARcr7qpYJaCahMBQCA7E2DFfAXVIN2R8ZChKvyzVa/s640/blogger-image-2106930755.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLi0kuOCFd6tNMkBQfYhu7Uig44Ng5UDBOd4EZhO8tNae0XCf7yuLJbYtOCywNIiV-6JsUEYM7ZV3L5HlEdqhsAyTwADMRnx_faleSsDK8xG6wY5CHZOlG-bzz_PA2uh8Q_G9o3pxdpR3s/s640/blogger-image-1499371802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLi0kuOCFd6tNMkBQfYhu7Uig44Ng5UDBOd4EZhO8tNae0XCf7yuLJbYtOCywNIiV-6JsUEYM7ZV3L5HlEdqhsAyTwADMRnx_faleSsDK8xG6wY5CHZOlG-bzz_PA2uh8Q_G9o3pxdpR3s/s640/blogger-image-1499371802.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGsp68dSnsiqxXHTHUdabiDX7lBjbk2GckxYSL4miX59k3oHuLsBveSfzVBCQ0nBrwf2ybyTChSN-46LQ1MG89EKLzZh1cInczCmKh0bujzQev8ErFh9VCRDTPwubFh4Km6PP7-rGwWxtF/s640/blogger-image-272093711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGsp68dSnsiqxXHTHUdabiDX7lBjbk2GckxYSL4miX59k3oHuLsBveSfzVBCQ0nBrwf2ybyTChSN-46LQ1MG89EKLzZh1cInczCmKh0bujzQev8ErFh9VCRDTPwubFh4Km6PP7-rGwWxtF/s640/blogger-image-272093711.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-0AdfXyhIoXQXXs3KGnbhXz2sYz-4i4l3oYTTSyB6s3DdcnNjmdx1HxRJLU-og_J1874gYfGZ086qRARfTEOSFoanuGJuP7_3fHwP-3tpasaA1r75IsKXs2Y-kW4McG0B2Jcaid-wjVn/s640/blogger-image-1620165364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-0AdfXyhIoXQXXs3KGnbhXz2sYz-4i4l3oYTTSyB6s3DdcnNjmdx1HxRJLU-og_J1874gYfGZ086qRARfTEOSFoanuGJuP7_3fHwP-3tpasaA1r75IsKXs2Y-kW4McG0B2Jcaid-wjVn/s640/blogger-image-1620165364.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfx8SPxVqZovW9eG2BBU6QwuOaPGlz5V1erIXGBA5epU3zpU4vlt72rBLD1I-ZNrhM0bdP5zdxX3Hsl2bEYchdxbxAGxIwl2o8VCMG65vAfbYC42vxQtFgg3hoF2zeIbV5tGJl0gVz6rn/s640/blogger-image-2133358127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfx8SPxVqZovW9eG2BBU6QwuOaPGlz5V1erIXGBA5epU3zpU4vlt72rBLD1I-ZNrhM0bdP5zdxX3Hsl2bEYchdxbxAGxIwl2o8VCMG65vAfbYC42vxQtFgg3hoF2zeIbV5tGJl0gVz6rn/s640/blogger-image-2133358127.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3sraksN7gQzKburgDO7AGPFeMSxzVeJmtsAaHA7pzDMCpmxBEs_qAE0N1JjRzyRtKcTwSKeBKjQ3CYsrAdGOQau44_Nw20R2Q2LII-rfsYRS9W8YJ3d-XYu66qdG24fK-sQXcQud5rPz1/s640/blogger-image-1085159555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3sraksN7gQzKburgDO7AGPFeMSxzVeJmtsAaHA7pzDMCpmxBEs_qAE0N1JjRzyRtKcTwSKeBKjQ3CYsrAdGOQau44_Nw20R2Q2LII-rfsYRS9W8YJ3d-XYu66qdG24fK-sQXcQud5rPz1/s640/blogger-image-1085159555.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKIACx6xfV581zOvbWiZWdAlANdVT2Eme5mTrHdLepYGa8ioYX2jiVgx1AlbXrsOEMusRKYM05CFocBdmJshwIgRXEQ_5_ME0YOYwZS7lme6rqv3CDHhYcngvTvGHNJMbcpQOutU4FJ9h-/s640/blogger-image--1388454937.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKIACx6xfV581zOvbWiZWdAlANdVT2Eme5mTrHdLepYGa8ioYX2jiVgx1AlbXrsOEMusRKYM05CFocBdmJshwIgRXEQ_5_ME0YOYwZS7lme6rqv3CDHhYcngvTvGHNJMbcpQOutU4FJ9h-/s640/blogger-image--1388454937.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGNWgMt0kmW02knTejQjuSJlriPtDTov39A9u65fz2fRgd2oeAS9_br_Aop1OklNnxkDQpnyGs2EuSWdc_r_wGuqI7isWJbOkEaNVr2jQayE4f7by95ENFOZA-ZEnP9ZKArSzhOkXcfLp/s640/blogger-image-1199589593.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGNWgMt0kmW02knTejQjuSJlriPtDTov39A9u65fz2fRgd2oeAS9_br_Aop1OklNnxkDQpnyGs2EuSWdc_r_wGuqI7isWJbOkEaNVr2jQayE4f7by95ENFOZA-ZEnP9ZKArSzhOkXcfLp/s640/blogger-image-1199589593.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0T5cIvlvT0vpP8xKpXGyKlyGZ_yZH4O3gw7qy5KFxJwgnl_CQ3ilurwf4SIWDHaAb3LDz4LXTOLxEEllp-qiT5nCmPc7mPs7xkDHUkQuOtacICAc3ByUnlrcDVbpVVSqEsxsZArjm-z7C/s640/blogger-image-727141903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0T5cIvlvT0vpP8xKpXGyKlyGZ_yZH4O3gw7qy5KFxJwgnl_CQ3ilurwf4SIWDHaAb3LDz4LXTOLxEEllp-qiT5nCmPc7mPs7xkDHUkQuOtacICAc3ByUnlrcDVbpVVSqEsxsZArjm-z7C/s640/blogger-image-727141903.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiOw2Ai4f9VdUr9bWitYhpME4BSjFnjd3GHSBtS2tn4gvW6QUnCxOUXBHpfqSvkvROvR4q-uIH0vaN2H6zPKvCWsflMLrpa0hmUB7VKuxfundI-2SMU3ZgKZyFx_8mOAxZZU1edenThY2f/s640/blogger-image--802655216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiOw2Ai4f9VdUr9bWitYhpME4BSjFnjd3GHSBtS2tn4gvW6QUnCxOUXBHpfqSvkvROvR4q-uIH0vaN2H6zPKvCWsflMLrpa0hmUB7VKuxfundI-2SMU3ZgKZyFx_8mOAxZZU1edenThY2f/s640/blogger-image--802655216.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqFyckaZEKj6WV9_vBo9ktNKIeS0ZQ9Ct82Nyoqw4TjFA3NUkEboENXgkTT9AEkpO4BAjouNcPUGqPXjOv4GYj42ZxJiJ_qHQxWggHOJjd9GtOz44mbokggm0gwc5nk02kR6XS9FlUaD3/s640/blogger-image-752430554.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqFyckaZEKj6WV9_vBo9ktNKIeS0ZQ9Ct82Nyoqw4TjFA3NUkEboENXgkTT9AEkpO4BAjouNcPUGqPXjOv4GYj42ZxJiJ_qHQxWggHOJjd9GtOz44mbokggm0gwc5nk02kR6XS9FlUaD3/s640/blogger-image-752430554.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRe0BL6YWWkFecGCvqWMXg0r1SEfJ3NYJ_DbBuWYdeKWZV807yRJVOg9dg_9dRe4vOH5rxo_5SaEz-rqPAhT5Id3buBNxKuC3Nhs2iBCH07QJrcuIrWtICWkdSoz4arNG5d8RSZYz3sBUm/s640/blogger-image--1509956642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRe0BL6YWWkFecGCvqWMXg0r1SEfJ3NYJ_DbBuWYdeKWZV807yRJVOg9dg_9dRe4vOH5rxo_5SaEz-rqPAhT5Id3buBNxKuC3Nhs2iBCH07QJrcuIrWtICWkdSoz4arNG5d8RSZYz3sBUm/s640/blogger-image--1509956642.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkqF1BpyiWLdJqWELxDMZMkn0Vsu5Z5ez3003qvOhYiYNA7hBBXDkMdyb3cGxtyChCZiVYPFTEMempCK_ZyT-V95aReSlDlyRHGUDH04u-FJkfXry0kZyK36VhjNfep2Hm7aIx_Ye9USQD/s640/blogger-image--3632804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkqF1BpyiWLdJqWELxDMZMkn0Vsu5Z5ez3003qvOhYiYNA7hBBXDkMdyb3cGxtyChCZiVYPFTEMempCK_ZyT-V95aReSlDlyRHGUDH04u-FJkfXry0kZyK36VhjNfep2Hm7aIx_Ye9USQD/s640/blogger-image--3632804.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmgdTuyYHGqwn8SWoxtdP0avTn1rfcTn-AdaFCKYxjcFvyY_r9GUwGwQlEG3kdkmMYJBJxVlJFzE3H2U1OmHUDs5FKuzMNMY_mqmL0bLwu8Xdpjx7zDXkHbuLEbtINkcZwAe1NZ2JNf_4B/s640/blogger-image-1741748775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmgdTuyYHGqwn8SWoxtdP0avTn1rfcTn-AdaFCKYxjcFvyY_r9GUwGwQlEG3kdkmMYJBJxVlJFzE3H2U1OmHUDs5FKuzMNMY_mqmL0bLwu8Xdpjx7zDXkHbuLEbtINkcZwAe1NZ2JNf_4B/s640/blogger-image-1741748775.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHmQZaNUDEcgc6SFYUOHE6fdS_amQrUvFTa1lNaKFMKeasrIeQlB9nGf7vw-I-WdUrXSdGrjJlCT6LUcPJbgZEdbosVyJZXiBWTbJGNzvaRcyCKK7UQyOqTyb6zd2_aB6Io8eb46F_-7bV/s640/blogger-image--974112447.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHmQZaNUDEcgc6SFYUOHE6fdS_amQrUvFTa1lNaKFMKeasrIeQlB9nGf7vw-I-WdUrXSdGrjJlCT6LUcPJbgZEdbosVyJZXiBWTbJGNzvaRcyCKK7UQyOqTyb6zd2_aB6Io8eb46F_-7bV/s640/blogger-image--974112447.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJaLHPNrb3y2fcWhupdCvnzanPYooRU1O_vZKD3qezfsmytC9N_GvswVuOUbU60J0B77TjplKMV6KL3hYcJtTpcg8FGIuasbitfOmhu_Fo9cIhM4Pk_FLIzARW7qZkH-ymwLfRxdJkjYcS/s640/blogger-image-975076100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJaLHPNrb3y2fcWhupdCvnzanPYooRU1O_vZKD3qezfsmytC9N_GvswVuOUbU60J0B77TjplKMV6KL3hYcJtTpcg8FGIuasbitfOmhu_Fo9cIhM4Pk_FLIzARW7qZkH-ymwLfRxdJkjYcS/s640/blogger-image-975076100.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGOl-ucohT52-qImeEY1KhS7y6Cx2MOTKgu0u4WtFVyPGtFcX3X_Xnq-TgBrv6UgtReqwYF-NcA6o2ofpnqgwfdx06xb9O9sV-h7r973zmuet_IJ_EiarmKxc5EHzALAudwkZ6XiAZgP9/s640/blogger-image-813562839.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGOl-ucohT52-qImeEY1KhS7y6Cx2MOTKgu0u4WtFVyPGtFcX3X_Xnq-TgBrv6UgtReqwYF-NcA6o2ofpnqgwfdx06xb9O9sV-h7r973zmuet_IJ_EiarmKxc5EHzALAudwkZ6XiAZgP9/s640/blogger-image-813562839.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhWACYuns1GJgEhbP8Yw1rYf8shIYq-s0Yj9PEilOvKb4APz3byDD7csB4YMFfvoZcX-FB3tyqLEjP0VwSpmIC4hyphenhyphenqZYrVE4lyd6iZVzTe4zxlI5WZDrv4seUIHqokm28VmYPL-ZHAvp4/s640/blogger-image--305857109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhWACYuns1GJgEhbP8Yw1rYf8shIYq-s0Yj9PEilOvKb4APz3byDD7csB4YMFfvoZcX-FB3tyqLEjP0VwSpmIC4hyphenhyphenqZYrVE4lyd6iZVzTe4zxlI5WZDrv4seUIHqokm28VmYPL-ZHAvp4/s640/blogger-image--305857109.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqxJQmslMEiyr1JtSZwOyX5GDfMwJkVUJUeYhnmHo22D6dZavfth6HPnWvD32EWstE_kgwV_ELMvntFEyE54jlvacHvhr21vm-ZJG8tHZBPEoPFJWbFi5HuFqTyO5V9Kk5BmnNcfI146s/s640/blogger-image--1501360873.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqxJQmslMEiyr1JtSZwOyX5GDfMwJkVUJUeYhnmHo22D6dZavfth6HPnWvD32EWstE_kgwV_ELMvntFEyE54jlvacHvhr21vm-ZJG8tHZBPEoPFJWbFi5HuFqTyO5V9Kk5BmnNcfI146s/s640/blogger-image--1501360873.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4xs0hj8qgOVd3AJN8MIem0Dz-hzFHEKWqQKVATa2R3FqdHTpRh1vCyW9hhQnA3YapHQ8aHljBPlm__o1CwxvIoZWOTfOonIhT9gGeMli2MRRQBQpvOcbDr65f4SQ_avBuarlywxuhzVL5/s640/blogger-image-665383339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4xs0hj8qgOVd3AJN8MIem0Dz-hzFHEKWqQKVATa2R3FqdHTpRh1vCyW9hhQnA3YapHQ8aHljBPlm__o1CwxvIoZWOTfOonIhT9gGeMli2MRRQBQpvOcbDr65f4SQ_avBuarlywxuhzVL5/s640/blogger-image-665383339.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy1QDFCDrGE8-9tn3BW2hr4aCK9y1Nt7zKExr49KyTgE_Se__DCIa76WBm_6EB-yvjU4Ij9ry7UTlPg4e49Ib7YxgG5nmSUbrrpMf5kCJYGpGdR0kIp7cgqWlTFo0tsU9847fuxzm_yqw-/s640/blogger-image--818346664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy1QDFCDrGE8-9tn3BW2hr4aCK9y1Nt7zKExr49KyTgE_Se__DCIa76WBm_6EB-yvjU4Ij9ry7UTlPg4e49Ib7YxgG5nmSUbrrpMf5kCJYGpGdR0kIp7cgqWlTFo0tsU9847fuxzm_yqw-/s640/blogger-image--818346664.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUtNnRcUwF2p8vT_dgxQA5unWE44k1qN0NklF_KMut0AUpLxT9TBNQ-isERjHtxM916tj3DPz3yF0Ky9ahkyXJMaX_U-eESCOVRXCtx6YtEdIQYqkDIsvhXi_MjfpYorICh2BSFAC7gjhC/s640/blogger-image--1016496876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUtNnRcUwF2p8vT_dgxQA5unWE44k1qN0NklF_KMut0AUpLxT9TBNQ-isERjHtxM916tj3DPz3yF0Ky9ahkyXJMaX_U-eESCOVRXCtx6YtEdIQYqkDIsvhXi_MjfpYorICh2BSFAC7gjhC/s640/blogger-image--1016496876.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6L50hm6i0EqTqtDYBEVrggFeg5_ezRmrspSGQxRprkF8eB_SuVZJBP8fteposSWk5DshRkQcH_thGXii-iSlWq8r-xejJieeOHAfKTDIjGJwJcGtw5sb2awWxNdyKR2hn7NEc3DW1Axy/s640/blogger-image--2099308144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6L50hm6i0EqTqtDYBEVrggFeg5_ezRmrspSGQxRprkF8eB_SuVZJBP8fteposSWk5DshRkQcH_thGXii-iSlWq8r-xejJieeOHAfKTDIjGJwJcGtw5sb2awWxNdyKR2hn7NEc3DW1Axy/s640/blogger-image--2099308144.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzsutejACp1UhOMrwL_kpLEX4Nd1glpuC9H_FXJpdTv6IwiXM73qe_PIVYACjMHX5W51D-auk0ArjnLLuNmqtUt6gXp5sTO4qs-MIxb7hIHCw_jsG2ZQ9SbvWt-DTldNuV98dhsQGpRUVf/s640/blogger-image-1373285759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzsutejACp1UhOMrwL_kpLEX4Nd1glpuC9H_FXJpdTv6IwiXM73qe_PIVYACjMHX5W51D-auk0ArjnLLuNmqtUt6gXp5sTO4qs-MIxb7hIHCw_jsG2ZQ9SbvWt-DTldNuV98dhsQGpRUVf/s640/blogger-image-1373285759.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-FDNHVILxEZPK30Of7StTEa55fXOoXXtqK3p6si_SsRwVc__P7DTmGfhyphenhyphen_V_-pfXmPKCaCKBVT90ITGthXSxxTaJ1cMh7RqkTnozqdlFUxGctc4NS_Fp2kRltX5cdBMi5W2_eAfmjLjl/s640/blogger-image--1383058684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-FDNHVILxEZPK30Of7StTEa55fXOoXXtqK3p6si_SsRwVc__P7DTmGfhyphenhyphen_V_-pfXmPKCaCKBVT90ITGthXSxxTaJ1cMh7RqkTnozqdlFUxGctc4NS_Fp2kRltX5cdBMi5W2_eAfmjLjl/s640/blogger-image--1383058684.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgknmIBecCjJlaDwj4d6TQmxEcQbU1KolbR3TtW4c11rm7czJUxTRzDnmUTe5sHq83_gJmX3Pz17NcQ1VwGEFHWGiYITVzqMmoNGXOZKd7NIUzT38rS4pDAG9wLbWfSFVQlc38ZHLtqibTQ/s640/blogger-image-466898290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgknmIBecCjJlaDwj4d6TQmxEcQbU1KolbR3TtW4c11rm7czJUxTRzDnmUTe5sHq83_gJmX3Pz17NcQ1VwGEFHWGiYITVzqMmoNGXOZKd7NIUzT38rS4pDAG9wLbWfSFVQlc38ZHLtqibTQ/s640/blogger-image-466898290.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And this is H on the tennis court today, she said, "Wook! I'm a witch!" Oh yes, the Halloween love is being passed down :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdR8i7nTZ54dYsnIQ4XNKq1jgFmRptCiqbLEVPuz7KJ4obknpPDbJd9Cr3RJaFz0K8o9TgIxQw29DcVkb7uUL19ewJegawFEuNLJb90oZOarvSPwdNP4ePtVpY14jLsd6WVtWk4cSGHBZ/s640/blogger-image-1260240401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdR8i7nTZ54dYsnIQ4XNKq1jgFmRptCiqbLEVPuz7KJ4obknpPDbJd9Cr3RJaFz0K8o9TgIxQw29DcVkb7uUL19ewJegawFEuNLJb90oZOarvSPwdNP4ePtVpY14jLsd6WVtWk4cSGHBZ/s640/blogger-image-1260240401.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div>pagehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07076077321600041952noreply@blogger.com0