After an hour and a half of a social worker asking me what seemed like a thousand questions, I looked over at my coffee tumbler. So depressingly close to empty. It was a coffee tumbler my mom got me as part of my birthday gift this year; it's covered in red and pink hearts. Ever since having Hartley, I look at all things with hearts a different way. They remind me of my beautiful, sassy little blue-eyed blonde girl.
Hartley had rejoined the room. She had been in another room with Brian, a psychologist and a speech therapist. They were assessing her - an assessment that will be used to determine if she's eligible to attend special ed preschool in the fall. I hated that I wasn't in the room for her assessment but someone had to answer ever single question about Hartley and who better than myself.
I wanted to pick the brains of the people who assessed Hartley though. I wanted to have been there so I could ask a laundry list of questions.
As the social worker was about to give us permission to leave, I chimed in. I told her we were supposed to have a parent conference so we could learn a little about what they thought. She told me she could send the psychologist in to speak with me.
The psychologist was a very nice lady with a calming aura about her. Hartley had warned up to her quickly.
She sat across from me at the table and told me lots of information, well articulated and very detailed.
I'm going to rattle off what she said. She said Hartley's play skills are delayed. She only interacted with the people in the room if she needed help opening something. As far as Hartley's language skills - Hartley uses the very bare minimum amount of language needed to express herself. She discovered that Hartley uses the word "stuck" instead of saying "please help me". (something we have always thought of as very cute actually). She didn't attempt to engage anyone to play. Her ability to respond to her name wasn't as consistent as it should be for a child her age. She said other 2.5 year olds don't respond to their names 100 percent of the time but Hartley did less than a typically developing child. Hartley's eye contact was fleeting. Hartley spun. Hartley wasn't easily redirected; apparently most children her age are more easily adaptable. They noticed Hartley was echolailic.
Now, I know this all sounds negative but she wasn't bashing on Hartley. She was describing to us what Hartley was doing and how it "measured up". She did also mention to us that Hartley seemed very bright and showed no difficulty in learning things. She said Hartley actually picked up how new things worked very quickly.
Brian said as far as how Hartley performed at her assessment, that it was very true to how she is at home. They did not catch her on a bad day or anything. I made sure to ask him this because I wasn't there to see.
The psychologist said she'd already explained it to Brian but she'd explain it to me so I could understand: Hartley is developing "atypically" as opposed to "delayed". The example we talked about is how Patrick at 12 months can hold eye contact or engage during peekaboo better than Hartley can. This doesn't mean Hartley is functioning at below a 12 month old level but rather, she's developing in a different or "atypical" way.
Then she said out loud what has been on my mind for probably about a year now:
"Has anyone talked to you about the possibility of Autism?"
That is a moment I can't quite erase. While my world didn't exactly come crashing down and it certainly wasn't out of left field, someone finally said it out loud.
"No one has but it's been on my radar for some time."
This wasn't a lie. I was fully aware that things she was doing were signs, and I began to truly wonder at her second birthday. When people would say to me, "don't worry, she'll catch up", I'd feel a little knot in my stomach. I knew they all meant well, and I couldn't tell them but my true worry was this wasn't something Hartley would "catch up" from.
The psychologist elaborated. She told me that they don't diagnose Autism Spectrum Disorder but Hartley showed characteristics that indicated it. She said they had "significant concern" (I chose to remember the exact words) with Hartley's development. She said if Hartley doesn't qualify for special Ed under the label "developmental delay" (though we have no reason to believe she won't), she could qualify under the Autism label. She said Hartley would "greatly benefit from intervention" though it was not her decision alone to make.
In that moment, I realized it was time to follow up with Children's Hospital, who my regular pedi had referred me to. They never called me to schedule like they were supposed to and I left it go because I thought maybe they'd say nothing was wrong at her assessment. I realized this isn't some thought I can keep brushing off because it makes me a little uncomfortable.
We left the building, and if it were legal I would've just curled up in a ball with Hartley in her car seat. In that moment I just wanted to wrap myself around her to somehow feel like I was shielding her from everything unpleasant.
Brian described their time to me in the car. He really described it as being a good day for Hartley. She seemed to mainly enjoy herself and she performed well.
His mood soured as we got home. I asked him if he wanted to talk but he snapped at me that he was just hungry. He said maybe she doesn't have ASD. And who knows, that's still a possibility, I guess.
The remainder of the day I felt kind of crappy. No I wasn't crying all day or feeling a sense of impending doom, but I was sad. I thought a lot about Hartley's future. I thought about how, even now, kids notice that she's different, and how that might get worse in the future. I thought about how it killed me that I couldn't protect her from everything, and I couldn't fix this for her. I thought about all of my big picture dreams for her, and how come hell or high water, I'm going to get her there.
At the end of the night my mind was spent. My heart was hurting. I decided to take some NyQuil, and be a more positive me in the morning.
On Friday, we woke to a new day and a new perspective. I ordered a book online so I can learn and grow myself. The kids and I headed to a new park with some new friends we met though MOMS club. And I watched Hartley play very happily. I felt so much better.
I have zero definite answers but my mentality is to savor every day. She's such a blessing, and I love her so much. We'll have great days, good days and bad days - and we'll get wherever we're destined to be.
I was hesitant to come online and share this. I think soon my writing therapy with switch over to a journal format. I know it's a little selfish of me to come on here because it's Hartley's life and story, and not mine. But I do plan on getting up on my soapbox from time to time. I do plan on preaching acceptance to the world.
As my beautiful Hartley would say:
SEE YA SOON! CHEERS!
Today I woke up a few minutes before 6, throat scratchy, nose sniffly. The past couple weeks here have been marked by everyone sneezing and having runny noses. My body has managed to continue to fight it off pretty well. I'll feel it starting to conquer me but I get a decent sleep and wake up okay.
Today my throat - and body - just needed a nice tall cup of coffee. Before the kids were up I sipped my coffee and thought about how big today was.
It's funny, I'm sure a lot of parents of typically developing children don't even know what the Infant and Toddler Connection even is. And for me, Hartley "graduating" from it is the first graduation she'll ever have.
The Infant Toddler Connection is an organization through the county that provides aide (i.e. Speech/occupational/physical therapy) at low or no cost to families with children in need. I learned of this organization back in February when both of my children were referred to it by their pediatrician.
Patrick was assessed, and because of some tricky rounding, he qualified. We were given the option for him to receive physical therapy services; however, we were told that his gross motor skills were delayed purely due to his very large size (at this time he was literally 100th percentile). We were told he would still develop all of his gross motor skills (so no need to worry) but it was going to take him longer because he had an extraordinary amount of weight to support unlike his little baby peers. We decided to go for it because we were already doing it with Hartley so why not, right?
Hartley presented more worrisome delays than Patrick. I believe it was something like more than 20 percent (maybe 25?) delays in 6 areas of her development. She was eligible for services, and it was much more of a no brainer. At that time, she was freshly 2, and something encouraging we heard a lot was that at that point, there's a very wide spectrum of what is "normal".
They wrote up an assessment of where she was. Then they wrote up a plan for her with a list of goals, some short term, some more long term. In all honestly, I'm not sure how many goals she's met. I know she's drastically improved on responding to her name. It certainly isn't 100 percent, but back in February it was pretty damn close to zero percent. She is improving with making choices. She has greatly improved in answering yes or no questions. None of this is 100 percent of the time but it's much, much better than it was. However, as she develops her peers do too so we're not exactly sure where she falls now.
That's where tomorrow comes into play. Some experts - a speech therapist and a psychologist - will assess her and tell us their thoughts. This will also determine if she is eligible to receive special Ed services.
The Infant Toddler Connection is an absolutely incredible organization; I can't say enough good things. It's a group of people who have found their lives' calling by working with these munchkins who just need some extra help. They are so incredibly sensitive, supportive, and professional. And as a mother whose children have needed some extra help, I'm so grateful for these people and this service. And Go, Fairfax County, for what you do!
Now at 36 months/3 years old, if children still are in need of extra help, they transition from ITC to Fairfax County Public Schools. FCPS is responsible for ensuring these preschoolers get what they need before they are old enough for kindergarten. Pretty cool, right?
Well, that's where we are tomorrow: Hartley is being assessed to determine her eligibility to attend this preschool. She basically qualifies if she shows to have 25% or greater deficency in 2 or more areas of development. Now, as her mom, I'm not 100 percent certain she'll qualify, mainly because I'm so proud of the huge strides that have been made in 6 months. But I am also aware that my child is developing differently than her typically developing peers.
However, I digress. I gave you all of that back ground for a reason, I promise! It's really to explain what ITC is because today Hartley graduates from ITC. I'm surprised she's graduating honestly. But I think our little team is fairly confident that Hartley will be transitioning over to FCPS. She was invited to Pathways to prepare for this transition.
So today my baby graduated ITC, and while many parents probably see that on Facebook and say "WTF are people celebrating now?" Because I realize that some people think we, as a society, over celebrate with things like participation trophies and all that jazz. BUT the group of kids we celebrated today do deserve this "extra" celebration. They are children and parents working really hard before school even starts. And quite frankly, these are children that can only gain from an extra day of celebrating them; they truly deserve the confidence boost!!
My daughter is 2.5 years old, and I'm very proud of the fact that she already has two certificates with her name on them. We survived ballet, and she truly has rocked ITC!
The ceremony was held at a park in Fairfax. It was hot and sweaty but very fun. They really tailored the event to the little graduates. Hartley loved playing at the park and munching on goldfish and mini cupcakes. She was shy about getting her certificate but Brian carried his little princess up to get it and there were no tears. Unless you count a couple proud mom tears.
Congrats, Hartley Glenn! You are so special, quirky, smart, funny & beautiful. I know this will be the first of many graduation ceremonies - and we will be cheering for you at every single one!
I just posted an ode to Patrick as he turns one. Believe it or not that was my second attempt at writing a birthday post I liked. I wrote two, not being wonderfully impressed with either so I decided not to post until I wrote a better one. Then I realized it just wasn't going to be like the way I wrote Hartley's baby updates.
I realize that my blog often chronicles more of Hartley than Patrick. Maybe it's taboo and I shouldn't say it but she's my more complicated child. I don't mean that in a better or worse type of way. Patrick has just been easy. He's a chill baby that doesn't mind me scrapping whatever's in the bottom of my purse and handing it to him in the checkout line as a toy. Seriously, you can say anything to that kid, and he laughs and smiles. In some ways it makes him hard to write about. How many times can I say my baby boy is jovial, easy-going and very, very large? I'd write down all of his likes but he likes pretty much everything. It's kind of crazy.
And like I said, it's not for better or worse, but Hartley is my child who keeps me on my toes. She keeps me constantly learning and constantly growing. And she had me well versed in "how to keep an infant alive and relatively happy" before Patrick even joined our family.
I write this from my bathtub. Yes, I'm a weirdo who write blogs in her tub. Quite frankly, it's double therapy for me and I recommend to all moms out there :)
I've entered this week a little nervous. I push my feelings deep, deep down inside though. The reason being is my job is keep our little family going. I try to stay cool and calm for my kids.
The other day we were outside and a snake that was close to 3 feet long came slithering out. It was big and scary. And I was outside with my kids and my goddaughters, and I just calmly hustled everyone to come back in the front yard to play. I herded them like cattle to get them back to the bubbles and chalk on our front driveway. Honestly, I was freaking out on the inside. Later, Brian told me how cool I was about it, even though he knows snakes scare the shit out of me. But I had to be cool. I didn't want the kids to be scared. I wanted them to feel fine and safe.
I can actually give myself a mom pat on the back because even though it's early in motherhood, I'm actually really good at this. It means holding in tears and letting my stress get the best of me starting at 8:01 pm when everyone is tucked in their little cribs, but it's the best thing for them, I know.
As we start this week we have all Hartley things on the docket: speech therapy, ITC graduation (crazy, I know, but they are pretty certain she's going to move over to preschool), her assessments, and parent conference. And by the end of the week, we're going to have a clearer picture of what's going on. That as a whole brings me peace but it also does bring a hair of anxiety.
Lately I've started to notice her playmates noticing she's a little different, a little quirky. That's been kind of hard to watch. I'm certainly not putting examples on here but I've told her little peers things like "Hartley's shy" or "Hartley's just being silly". The way she talks is different so it's very normal that kids notice that.
I've been "reassured" that Hartley should be found eligible for special Ed preschool. I get how that sentence sounds funny to some. Maybe you're thinking, "why would you want your child to be in special Ed?" It's an inexplicable feeling that when I saw my child in her pathways setting, I felt it was the appropriate setting for her. I want Hartley to be thoroughly and properly evaluated though so we can make sure she is in the exact right setting for her to grow and flourish. The label of this setting is not my concern.
At the end of Pathways, I felt Hartley had blossomed a lot. Her language and focus improved. And over the past few weeks, she loves "playing with friends". I love hearing her talk about "friends". She spouts off kids names in her Hartley way. She says the name in a tone that denotes to me that it's a question. And I know that's Hartley's way of asking if she can see that friend. It's been amazing to see her interact with other kids and really enjoy it. This is very recent for her (like a month ago she really didn't seem to care much about being around other children).
Hartley also really enjoyed school. So Brian and I discussed how whether or not she's found eligible, we'll try to get her into some sort of preschool. That fact that she asks us for "preschool?" is thrilling to us. We want to encourage that love for school, and we're both ecstatic that it seems there already!!
Anyway, I'm probably going to blog this week again. The truth is, this outlet seems like the healthiest way. A few weeks ago I avoided retreating to my blog for fear of being negative - then I binged ate Chinese food and drank a bottle of wine. I'm fairly certain prattling off my nonsense on here is the better option ;)
I'll never forget the cold December day that I lugged Hartley in her footie pajamas to Target. I had been feeling an overwhelming exhaustion for days; it was an exhaustion I'd only experienced once before. Though it was cold, I felt a little sweaty and my stomach kept turning. I knew I couldn't be pregnant. But it was December 5th, and my last period was in October. If I were "normal", I would've been two weeks late.
I usually text Brian the most mundane updates throughout my day but I couldn't share with him that i'd just placed a few bottles of wine alongside a pregnancy test on the checkout conveyer belt. I knew he'd tell me I was ridiculous and had essentially set a ten dollar bill on fire.
But what did it hurt? Like I said, I'd only felt this way once before, and it didn't hurt to rule it out.
I got home. I plopped my not quite 10 month old baby in her highchair. I busied her with a pile of puffs and retreated to the powder room.
I laughed at myself a little as I peeled the foil off. I'm so stupid. This is so stupid. It's impossible.
But sure enough, as soon as I used the test, a half second after the control line popped up - the test line unmistakably filled in pink.
I couldn't even process what had just happened. I'm quite sure I said, "What the?!?!" out loud.
I called Brian, and I gave him the shock of his life. He kept tripping over his words, alternating asking me "what?" and "how?"
I often look back on how Patrick came to be and think about how he was the thing in this world that I never knew how much I needed until he got here. God knew. It's hokie but I truly believe he had a plan for us. Patrick was so meant to be a part of our family. He was so meant to be on this earth. He is a wonderful miracle. How lucky we are to have TWO miracle babies.
I always worried how I would juggle two young children. And truth be told, I sometimes suck at it, and I struggle. It's actually very hard to try to divide my attention evenly and feel like I'm doing all I can for both of them all the time.
I worried how I would be as a boy mom. If you know me you know I couldn't give two shits about sports. I know, sacrilege, right? But I just don't. So I worried if it meant that I'd have nothing in common with Patrick. Spoiler alert: it definitely didn't. I've actually surprised myself with how excited I am to learn about dinosaurs and trucks with him - and I guess maybe even some sports stuff, too ;)
But when Patrick entered this world, I actually felt it. That instantaneous love they tell you about. I honestly didn't feel that right away with Hartley. But Patrick, the very first time I held him was one of the most euphoric and wonderful moments of my life.
He has been such a joyful, sweet baby. His disposition is absolutely amazing. He's easy going and happy. He loves to laugh, be silly and explore. He adores and looks up to Hartley, even though she bosses him around something fierce.
He's bright; you can always see the wheels turning. He's ridiculously strong. I'm talking you have to have some serious skills and muscles to wrangle that child. He's sweet. When he can stop moving for a few seconds, he's quick to cuddle. He's a social guy; he loves people, especially other babies.
His perfect red hair and giant baby body get all sorts of compliments from strangers.
I often feel bad because I don't come on here and chronicle his babyhood the same as I did with Hartley. I kind of wish I did but the truth is, whenever I do have time to myself, I'm usually too pooped to prattle off about what toys or books he's loving. I feel lucky that I've gotten to live everyday of it with him though. I've gotten to be there for all of it; I just haven't written it down. Hopefully he'll forgive me of that.
Patrick Frank,
You are the most perfect little boy, far better than I could've ever imagined. I hope you keep your amazing attitude and sweet personality always. With it, I know you will go very far and do amazing things. I love you so much, and I thank God for bringing you into my life. You will always be my very best surprise.
Editor's note: I wrote this on his birthday but I didn't love it so I postponed posting hoping my writing vibes would get better. They didn't. And we've since been to the dr and learned a Patrick stat to include. He's 30 lbs, 5 ounces - bigger than Hartley. He is 99.97 percentile for both height and weight. Brian's NBA dreams are still alive ;)
A couple weeks ago Brian was in Dallas, and I was spending the morning with the kids like usual. I had just settled Patrick down for his morning nap and came back downstairs to get Hartley set up doing an art activity. I pulled out a princess coloring book that my aunt had given her along with a jar full of crayons. She gravitated towards her art supplies like she always does; I love that crayons and markers have an almost magnetic force over her. I figured now I was set up to do the business of my morning - return a call from the Neuro Developmental pediatrician at Children's Hospital that Hartley's pediatrician referred us to.
A cheery voice on the other end of the phone chirped what seemed like a million questions related to Hartley's development. As the princess coloring book lost its luster I began doling out princess stickers. As usual none were ending up on the pages of the coloring book. Princess after princess found her place stuck on Hartley's little white table.
I talked about Hartley like she wasn't there, which I hate but it's sometimes unavoidable seeing as I make these calls during business hours. And even though I feel like I've discussed her development ad naseum, every time discussing it with someone new just feels draining. Our conversation concluded with the lady on the other end asking me to have all of Hartley's records faxed over to her so they could review them and call me back to schedule an appointment. I hung up feeling a little worse than when the call began honestly.
In that moment I felt so tired. Brian was gone so I knew after the kids went to bed he wouldn't be there to talk to me about the phone call. I had been feeling like Hartley was progressing but not as quickly as her peers so I was feeling "the gap" widen. I repeated my mom's words to myself, "it might get a little worse before it gets better". I took a deep breath and reminded myself to enjoy Hartley. My mind was bogged down with these little worries that sometimes seem unavoidable but I need to remember to enjoy my beautiful, quirky 2 year old.
A short time later I glanced down at my phone and realized I had missed a call. Hartley's service coordinator, Carole, had left me a voicemail. She calls from time to time to check in about how Hartley is doing and if I miss her call I usually just call back without listening to the voicemail but that day I decided I would. She said she was calling to discuss "an opportunity for Hartley", and I knew exactly what it would be. I actually wasn't disappointed that they would be inviting Hartley to Pathways to Preschool, a camp of sorts to get the kids ready for Special Ed preschool in the fall. Honestly, around this time I was starting to realize that things were stalling out a bit and things were actually getting more challenging than usual. The scripting had increased and she was talking in a lot of gibberish. Her ability to listen and focus weren't so hot. And while I know these lulls will happen, quite frankly, they are never fun.
As soon as I called Carole back and she extended the invitation, I accepted. I didn't even attempt calling to discuss it with Brian first. It was much more of a "just tell me where and when and no matter what, Hartley and I will be there".
I did ask Carole if she'd ever heard of a child being invited to attend Pathways and then be found ineligible for Special Ed preschool. She said she hadn't ever heard of a case like that and that she thinks Hartley will be eligible to attend Special Ed preschool this fall.
I'm certainly not holding her to this, and I'm still constantly saying that we don't know for sure that Hartley is eligible. Her little team will be surprised if she is not eligible to attend but nothing is final; we still have assessments ahead of us.
This week, however, Hartley and I started Pathways.
Yesterday morning was a little nerve wracking. It actually felt like the first day of school for yours truly. I placed my cup of coffee on the kitchen table along with my bowl of special K. Normally I scarf down my breakfast because I usually have about a minute to eat before someone needs something. But I felt too nervous to eat so for once I didn't mind avoiding my breakfast and rescuing thrown sippy cups or lost toys instead.
I dressed Hartley in an outfit I bought her earlier this summer. For some reason I put a lot of thought into what outfit she'd wear, and I picked a certain one because it reminded me so much of the outfits my mom used to dress me in as a little girl. I remember my mom having my siblings and I stand on the front stoop wearing our backpacks standing next to one another for a first day of school picture. Thanks to Pinterest these pictures have evolved to always include a chalkboard which a caption of the day. Well, I knew Hartley would never stand or sit facing the camera and holding the sign but of course I attempted it anyway.
As we got into the car I realized I didn't have the princess CD with me so I played my Justin Bieber CD (judge away, I like what I like). Hartley actually sang along to "Sorry" in her sweet, soft singing voice. I had my notebook with written directions in my lap and thought about how one of these days I should probably join the rest of the world with using a phone gps instead.
As I read the last direction, I could see the school pop up right in front me. I took a deep breath and figured now was as good a time as any. I've actually never left my 2.5 year old in someone's care that isn't family. Yes, I realize that makes me sound crazy but I just had never gotten to it, I guess.
We walked in and she held my hand so tightly. All these various emotions churned inside me: nervousness, pride, excitement. I hoped I was keeping up a good poker face as I talked to Hartley about how much fun we were about to have.
We got to the classroom, and every couple seconds she looked around to make sure I was never more than a foot away from her. For the brief 30 seconds I had walked to the corner of the room to plop down my diaper bag, I immediately heard a familiar voice screeching, "MAMA! MAMA!"
"It's okay, sweetie. Mama just had to put down her bag. I'm not going anywhere!" Lies. I knew our time was numbered.
We walked around the classroom exploring our new, primary colored surroundings. We spent most of our time playing with a box of plastic kitchen supplies and toy food. She was having a ball playing independently. She pretended to cook, and I watched wondering when they'd herd the parents out like cattle.
Once all the other students arrived, we did circle time. I always wonder if the little plastic chairs are truly able to hold adult weight because Hartley always wants me to sit right next to her. We both sat in our teeny plastic chairs, and I rubbed her back so she'd remember I was right there.
We sang the welcome song, then the wheels on the bus. Everything was going smoother than I expected. Then, it was time.
I can't even fully revisit the moment I had to leave her because it was awful.
Hartley cried. She screamed out for me. Then tears started pouring out of me, too. I grabbed my diaper bag and ran out of the room at the ushering of our service coordinator.
I was the first parent out the door. I was the only one crying. My child was the only one screaming at the top of her lungs for her mom.
I breezed through the colorfully decorated hallway to the room the moms were supposed to go to. Both of the service coordinators had the most empathetic looks as I tried desperately to look like I wasn't tearing up. It was embarrassing but in that moment I felt too upset to be too embarrassed.
They sat us down and had us do a crafting activity. So that actually helped me a lot. Crafting is my happy place so I just engrossed myself in the little book they had us make. It was definitely a little awkward. Even though we had gone around the room introducing ourselves, it certainly doesn't feel right to ask what exactly is up with the other kids. But I can't lie, with the exception of the children with physical disabilities, I desperately wanted to know. I wanted to know if anyone's child was like Hartley because so far I have no friends with children that are "like" Hartley. I wanted to feel like I could talk to these women. Did anyone feel a little weird about all of this? Or maybe I'm the only one? What are these moms struggling with? To they have some of the thoughts and feelings I have? Well, yesterday I wouldn't learn any answers to those questions. But today, I did. And for the first time, I felt far less weird and alone. I actually was quite proud of myself today for cheering on my fellow moms.
I was that lady who hopped up from her seat to reassure another mom, "you are not failing your child". Yes, I beat the service coordinators to the punch. I have repeated to myself many times "Page, you are not failing Hartley." So I was very quick to tell a fellow mom what I often need to hear. I actually never knew how comforting and yet heartbreaking it would hear to hear another mom say, "I think I'm failing my son".
The truth is, we are not failing our children. We are actually doing so much for them. I told her how sometimes I know that I'm supposed to repeat a phase a thousand times for Hartley to get it but that I get so tired of hearing my own voice that sometimes I just want to stop talking. I told her how relieved I am that starting this fall I won't feel like all of this weight to be this perfect mom 24/7 won't rest on my shoulders. Hartley will have teachers and friends she gets to learn language from instead of just me. The feeling that your child is struggling and you don't feel totally qualified to help them is awful. So I often remind myself of all the fantastic things that I do for Hartley and that helps me feel better.
While I've spent the last couple mornings in uncharted territory with strangers, Hartley has done extremely well.
The first day she substituted Carole in for me, and she stayed very close to her during her mom-free preschool time. I'm incredibly grateful that Carole acted as mom to her, and I know it was invaluable to Hartley.
Day two Hartley blossomed a bit more and she made a new friend. She followed around a little girl name Sophie. She actually sat and sang during circle time. When they brought the kids back to the moms, Hartley's face lit up at the sight of me. She smiled a gigantic smile and sprinted full speed into my arms. The room let out a collective, "awwww". I'm sure everyone is now well aware that my child and I are ridiculously attached to one another - and who knows if it's a healthy amount.
As we drove home today I felt very proud of us both. We are both taking on something completely new, and we are both trying our very best. Sometimes it's fun. Sometimes it's hard. And so far our like practice preschool kind of seems like both at the same time.
I hope the rest of Pathways goes as well as the first two days went. I hate even using this term but I can't find a better one so - I hope this early intervention is helpful.
And I look forward to coming back on here to share more of our little school adventures.
I also realize I'm way past due on a Patrick update as he is developing insanely fast all of a sudden. But that is for another day and another nap time :)
I think whenever birthdays roll around I have a tendency to reflect - on my life, the past year, etc.
When I hit 30 last year, I felt anxious, uncertain and uneasy. I was 8 months pregnant with Patrick, and I couldn't keep up with my very active toddler. I felt so much self doubt about my ability to care for and juggle a newborn and a 1 year old. I wasn't entirely loving my choice to be a stay at home mom, and I was wondering if I was missing out because I didn't have a "real career". We were outgrowing our townhouse but I was terrified to move. I was disappointed in myself, honestly. I kind of felt like I was just this boring stay at home mom.
And the truth is, I don't look back at that milestone birthday very fondly. I actually feel kind of bad for that woman who was holding herself to these high standards of what she was supposed to be just because the calendar had hit a certain date.
31, however, I feel very proud of myself. This past year, I gave birth to my son. I learned how to be a mom to two children under the age of two. Brian traveled a lot last fall, and I learned just how much I could do all on my own! We underwent the process of selling, buying and moving with an infant, toddler and dog - and around Christmas. And since Brian's work was insanely busy, I actually was an extremely active participant in taking care of all the move things.
Weeks after the move, Hartley turned two, and my job as a mom got a little more complex. I learned about some oddities in her development, and I took on an advocacy role and started to learn therapy exercises to help her. I actually did the same for Patrick for a gross motor delay; though his issues concern us far less, honestly. I did my first mommy and me class with Hartley in the spring; we took ballet. And it was quite humbling to be the mom of "the quirky kid" ;) A great lesson in patience. I also started volunteering for The American Cancer Society through a program called Look Good, Feel Better. I actually have grown to love being a stay at home mom. I can't imagine doing anything else right now but my volunteering has reminded me that I do have skills outside of my domestic skill set.
Don't get me wrong, I still have some bad days. I didn't magically become some perfect, enlightened being over this past year. But I'm going into 31 feeling really good. I'm proud of this past year, I'm more confident, and I'm hopeful that the year ahead will be a great one.
I always joke about my age. I high five people who card me and I thank people who opt to call me "miss" instead of "ma'am". But I truly would not trade where I am in life for anything.
Cheers to the last day of 30!
I don't remember the last Friday where I was excited as I was this past Friday. I knew Brian would get out of work relatively early, and he was bringing home Mellow Mushroom for dinner. And then our little family would have three full days together. Seriously, all weekends need to be three day weekends!
I'd also been looking forward to taking the kids to a firework show. It's been years since I've done the quilt in the grass, live music, food truck, real deal fireworks show. We always watch the neighborhood fireworks at my parents' house, which is really fantastic but definitely a different experience. It does offer the comfort of being able to pop inside of the kids were to freak out, so a super crowded show not very close to home was a gamble. However, I'm happy to report it went very well.
We took them to Lansdowne Resort because I've always heard such good things about their Fourth of July celebration. The place was a little "too much" for me when we first got there. It was a very long walk from the parking lot to the resort, and we should've brought the double stroller but naively opted for the single. The ticket lines were long. And the lines for food were even longer. We're talking 50 minutes to buy an overpriced hot dog long, and God knows how well that works for families of babies and toddlers.
Again, our naivety, we bought a bunch of food tickets we couldn't use because the lines were too long, and I was annoyed because I was hungry and looking forward to all this food they advertised. But luckily the Good Humor line was short and sweet, so we ate ice cream for dinner. Hartley was all about it! Here I was pissed because I thought I'd get this fully loaded hot dog, and she couldn't be any happier to pummel two ice cream cones instead! Yeah, if you're gathering from this story that I'm one of those people who gets hangry - you're spot on, no shame, I am.
But Hartley was loving life twirling around and dancing to the live music, face and dress covered in chocolate. Patrick was his normal jovial self. He was literally bouncing himself on the blanket and loving watching the big kids do cartwheels in front of him. He only tried to crawl off like 50 times ;) We saw that the kids were having fun but as the masses grew, we had no idea how we'd do the trek back to the car in the huge crowd of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Especially with no stroller for Hartley. Then the idea of having two tired kids sit in traffic waiting to get out? Reality struck that we couldn't do it - especially my hangry self!
So we packed things up and headed to the playground in front of the resort. Hartley loved playing on the playground, until she discovered a beach volleyball court. Then she decided the beach was her hangout for the night! She made friends like little kids do and just began running around with her new buddies on "the beach". A little girl came up to Hartley and asked her to play tag. I didn't take pictures or a video because I didn't want to creep out the other parents but it was the picture of perfection. All these sweet, Americana-clad babes chasing each other around and laughing endlessly.
Well, not endlessly because Hartley did end up getting plowed. But it actually kind of worked out because the mom of the kid that plowed her gave her a lollipop, and that ended up being good bribery to get her to sit in my lap and watch the fireworks ;)
Hartley absolutely loved the fireworks. She was cheering and screaming, "whoa! Fireworks!" Patrick seemed a tad unsure at first but Brian scooped him up and being held securely in his dad's arms, he discovered he liked them, too!
We watched the first ten minutes from the playground, and then we decided we had a long walk back to the car so the kids could enjoy watching them as we headed to the swagger wagon. Every now and then we hit a sweet spot and would stop so Hartley could watch from a prime viewpoint. But we made it to the car just as the finale was happening so I'm proud to report - we beat the heinous traffic!
Patrick's eyes were hardly open as I loaded him in the car but Hartley was wide awake. Go figure. Her little body was covered in sweat, dirt, sand and chocolate, and she was one very happy, very sticky little girl.
When we got home, it was around ten o'clock so it was dirty to bed! I thought ahead for Patrick and had him dressed in Patriotic pajamas for the event so he could just be moved into bed. And I think even Hartley knew she was nearing her limit as I took off her sand-filled shoes and got her changed.
I couldn't believe what a success the night had been. Yeah, I wish we could've used our tickets. We passed them off to some grandparents who had just been hanging out with their own grandchildren so I felt like they had probably earned some free drinks ;) But a 2 year old and an almost one year old spending hours out somewhere and not a single meltdown, only smiles? Complete success!
Now I need to go find myself that hot dog...
