More MIA Updates

Wow, so apparently I'm horrible about keeping this up. Things get busy, yadda yadda yadda ...

So, where to begin? In a nutshell, Ethan was denied any services through LAUSD, that while he probably could use some help, his "issues" weren't severe enough to qualify. On the one hand, GREAT! While we went through all the testing procedures, I did notice other kids who definitely seemed like they could use more help (eg. severe speech delays, etc). On the other hand, I felt like I was back to square one.

To be honest, Ethan has "grown" a lot since then. Academically, he seems to be doing well, especially with reading and math. People seem to be surprised how well he can read (for his age); which, to be honest, as a cynic, I can't tell if they're just fluffing my feathers since I don't really have any basis as to how much a four-year-old is supposed to be able to read.

However, socially, we still have some issues. Ethan's inability to cope with change had gone on to become violent. At home, I would get smacked, kicked, shoved, etc. and I was worried that this aggression would spill into school. Sometime in October, it finally did, and I was mortified. He wasn't just hitting other kids, but also the teachers. Thus prompted my first request for a parent-teacher conference.

The school staff (including the director) assured me that it wasn't the end of the world, and even pointed out that Ethan wasn't being aggressive out of malice, but because he couldn't cope with change. If other kids had a different idea about how to play with something, Ethan would freak out. And once he tipped over that edge, it was often difficult to bring him back down. Sure, you could remind him to use his words and that hitting is unacceptable until we're all blue in the face, but without a suitable (and safe) alternative, there was nowhere else for the frustration to escape than through his hands, legs, and lungs.

One method that I thought might help him is to get him to walk away. At home when he has gotten aggressive with me, he usually ends up in his room and can only come out after he's calmed down and ready to apologize. I told him that if he starts getting angry at school, he can try to find someplace away from others where he can calm down. I even suggested that he practice counting either as high as he can or in different languages. Supposedly this method worked at least once in school, but of course, catching that point (either by himself or with the help of a teacher) is far from easy.

Right now, I'm thankful that we've gone about a couple of weeks without any incidents at school. Even with me, the aggression has decreased, and I've had to put him in time out in his room maybe once in the last couple of weeks.

As for the other concern about Ethan not connecting with the other kids at school ... well, still not having much luck there. There are a couple of kids he seems to get along with, but most days he still often plays by himself. He still seems to prefer it that way, although it nearly broke my heart when I saw him one morning attempt to join a couple of other boys who were playing. They were bouncing balls among themselves, and Ethan took one ball out of the storage bin. He walked over to them and asked (a few times) if he could play with them, and he was practically ignored. Perhaps he wasn't asking too quietly. I wanted so badly to intervene, but I felt like in the long run, I wouldn't be doing him any favors by doing so. Ethan ended up putting the ball down and found something else to do. By himself.

I have reached out to the parents of a couple of the boys his teachers have told me that he gets along with, asking if they would be interested in playdates. One mom sort of shrugged me off by telling me that their schedules are all over the place so it's hard for them to plan playdates. The other I haven't even heard back from, but at least the boy came up to me and told me that he would love to have a playdate with Ethan. Eh, to be continued.

MIA Updates

I've been MIA again. Things got busy, I got lazy, etc.

However, there are several new things in life that got me promising myself to start writing again on a regular basis: I've gone ahead and pursued opportunities to help my son with some of his "issues." Specifically, getting an IEP for him. This school year will be his last before he starts Kindergarten next fall, and in the end, my desire to help him succeed in "big kids school" trumps my reservations about getting "special ed" services for my child.

So this week and next, while his preschool is closed for a brief end-of-summer break, we get to tackle several tests and evaluations. This week he'll have Language and Psych assessments, an Audio/Visual one next week, followed by the first IEP meeting the following week.

Speech & Language is nothing new for us. He received services through Regional Center right before he turned two years old for speech delay. He should have continued, but we moved, and I never got around to looking up services in our new district. Shortly after he turned four, I finally got him re-evaluated and regular appointments with a speech therapist. More about this from an earlier post here.

I wrote in that post that I would continue to do what I can to help him work out his issues. In addition to S&L, one other thing that has come up—at home, in school, during speech, at playdates, etc—is that he has trouble coping in situations where "rules" he has in his mind aren't being followed. This could be anything from how the kids are lined up at school for hand-washing, or that his father left for work without eating breakfast first, or that he witnesses a stranger crossing the street while the DON'T WALK sign was flashing. I find it almost amusing since he doesn't always follow rules himself; but if it's other people breaking them, then it's a catastrophe! From speaking with his preschool teachers and his speech therapist, I was introduced with the idea of social skills groups. I thought it was a great idea and began looking around for groups in our area.

At the same time, I was encouraged again to contact our local school district to ask about preschool services—they could offer the exact services my son needs, from speech to occupational therapy. The thing is, these services are through Los Angeles Unified School District's Division of Special Education. As I wrote earlier, I just had my own (silly, cowardly) hangups about such labels. I wish my reasons for putting it off were more grand, but honestly, 1) I thought going through the district would be a bureaucratic clusterf*ck, and 2) I just didn't want my son to be negatively judged if he does, in fact, have learning disabilities. I was afraid that people would think him weird or worse—simply because he's developing a little differently than other "normal" kids his age. In the end, those who would think that about my bright, happy, and friendly little guy could, to put it bluntly, go eff themselves. The ones who would not think any less of him and continue to support us are the ones that matter.

So here we go. Today was actually his S&L assessment. I'll write another post with details, but so far, I've been pleasantly surprised at how well LAUSD has been working with us. My fingers are crossed.

Laser Lights: Part Two

It's now been just over a week since I went in for my first laser hair removal treatment for my underarms. I'm glad I waited before writing any follow-ups because up until yesterday, I was ready to say that my results were FAR less effective than from what I've seen and heard.

The place I decided to go with was Beauty Park Medical Spa in Santa Monica. I tried to look for a deal from Groupon of Living Social, but I was a little wary of the places that offered them, since there weren't many that got good reviews on Yelp. Beauty Park is located not too far from me, they currently have a four-star rating on Yelp, but the biggest draw for me was that on their web site, they mention that use an Alma Soprano Laser. I've heard it is supposed to be painless.

The Alma Soprano XLi Laser

So I went in for my treatment on Friday morning. I ran a couple of minutes late because I wasn't sure where to park (before deciding on metered street parking on Montana, half a block away). As I walked in, I apologized for running late, and I was glad to still be greeted with a smile from the young woman at the reception desk. (Am I too jaded because I expect to be hissed at whenever I'm late for appointments?)

After a bit of paperwork, she brought me back to a room just behind reception and told me that my technician would be with me shortly. The room was small but comfortable, hardly clinical, with a curtain to "close" it off from the hallway. Right next to the bed/table was the black Alma Soprano XLi laser. (Yes!)

After a few minutes, a gal in a white lab coat came in and introduced herself as Kristen. (Or was it Kristin? Kirsten?? I can never tell anymore.) She closed the curtain and asked me if I've ever had hair removal services before. I told her I've gotten waxed before, but I've never had anything done for my underarms. She assured me that the procedure is virtually painless, and that if I've ever experienced waxing before, this is nothing to be afraid of.

I hopped up on the bed and was given a pair of protective glasses.  Kristen generously dolloped on some type of cooling gel on my skin and then started to rub the laser wand back and forth (and all around) the area. For me, yes, I would consider it painless. However, I wouldn't consider saying that I felt nothing at all. I definitely felt something; more like tiny, mild electrical shocks under my skin—rather than snapping rubber bands as some have described it. It was more than bearable, and for what it's worth, I was actually more preoccupied with trying not to laugh because it tickled a little.

Kristen spent a couple of minutes working on each side, so I was in and out of the place in around 30 minutes. They offer package deals where you get 15% off if you buy at least three sessions, so I went ahead and bought three. (From my research, I would probably need at least that many sessions, and if I end up needing more, I can always buy in threes.)

The outcome? So during the first eight days after my treatment, it felt (and looked) like I had a five o'clock shadow on my underarms, and I couldn't get rid of it! I'd shave, and it barely made a dent. I thought to myself, "This is worse than before!" Sometime around day four or five, I was so annoyed that I actually went ahead and tried to pluck a hair out. I had to know whether the follicle was actually destroyed or not; if the hair pulled out easily, then YEAH! If not, then, F*CK!

Thankfully, the few hairs I sampled did pull out easily. (Whew!) Ever since then, I made sure to exfoliate the skin while in the shower, then hoped all the dead hairs would just fall out soon. Yesterday, the ninth day, was the first time I noticed the absence of the stubborn stubble after my shower. And lo and behold, today the skin is just as hair-free as yesterday! I was quite giddy to notice this, since normally the hair is already very noticeable after 24 hours.

Thus far, I am a very satisfied customer, both of the procedure and Beauty Park. I've got my second underarm session already booked, and I'm considering starting my legs or bikini. Kristen joked that it's addicting, and I'm starting to see why!

Laser Lights

While we were away at Coachella last month, a friend of ours treated us to her personal story of laser hair removal. She went into much more detail than I would write on here - we're not shy amongst friends and there was plenty of alcohol involved - but ever since then, I've been almost obsessed with going through the journey myself. After doing a bit of research online, with great thanks to Yelp, I've taken my first step and made an appointment for this Friday.

I'll save the name of the place I'm going to for after the first treatment, when I can dish out how much it hurt (both physically and financially). I'm getting my underarms done first, and if it goes well, I might move on to the bikini area, then perhaps the legs. Even if it's near 80% effective in permanent hair removal (as they say), then I'll be one happy campmer.

Stay tuned!

The Filing Cabinet

A couple of months ago, I finally got my son into another speech therapy program.

Back story: He was in one, briefly, a couple of years ago for a speech delay. I ended up pulling him out because we moved, but since he also started talking non-stop, I thought it was no longer as big issue. Around the time he turned three, even though he talked all the time, it became clear that he had some difficulty enunciating many words; I could easily translate what he was saying, but I guessed that everyone else understood him 50% of the time. Maybe less. Again, I thought he would just "grow out of it," that he'll eventually be able to sound out the letters R and L, etc. It wasn't until I met with his preschool teachers earlier this year that I realized how much his speech issues affected other things, most importantly, his social interactions with other kids. They were concerned that my son had not made any real connections with any of the other kids, even though they have been in the same classroom for several months already. They said that perhaps the biggest hurdle is because the other kids have trouble understanding him; if they try to speak with him and he either can't answer them or answers unintelligibly, then they get frustrated and/disinterested.

While not totally uncommon, they also told me that at this age (4-5), kids generally start to really play with one another. It was very surprising and sobering to hear, since my son is far from being a shy kid; he will talk to complete strangers at the store, and is known for always having a beaming smile on his face. Consequently, I began to notice when I dropped him off in the mornings, there were definite "groups" of kids who generally played together ... and there was my son, who played by himself. It broke my heart. Now, it wasn't like my son sat in a corner and cried - he was happy to play alone, or briefly with the occasional kid who stopped by to check out what he was doing, but as his mother, of course I want him to have friends and be able to have fun with them. I am an introvert, so I fully understand the preference to do things alone, but I was/am afraid that my son's speech difficulties could lead him to be treated as an outcast.

So I finally got off my ass and got him into therapy. Great! But then they made me realize something else. While he definitely needs help with articulation, he also has problems simply communicating. Ask him a question, and he could give you a seemingly random or unrelated answer. Yes, this was something else I knew, but didn't think too much of. That is, until I took into consideration how it affects his interactions with other kids.

The best example they gave me was this: it's as if his mind is like a filing cabinet. Talk to him, and instead of pulling out the right piece of paper, everything just falls out and he picks up the first piece that he thinks makes sense. That is so completely him. Again, I was able to figure him out because most of the time, I knew what he was referencing. But to others? Talk to him about food, and he will blurt out something like, "But the kids won't have good food to eat!" While I could recognize that he's recalling something from the book, "The Little Engine That Could," others would generally be like, "WTF?"

So we're working on it. He has speech therapy twice a week, I take him to as many of his classmates' birthday parties that we get invited to, and he'll be in preschool for five days a week (instead of three) starting in the fall. If it comes up again (his speech therapist mentioned the possibility of him being ADHD), I'll do what I can to help him work it out. My son is a crazy, happy four-year-old - and I think as most parents are wont to do, I'll be damned if he's ostracized or bullied in some way because he has difficulty talking.

OLDchella - Part One

Every year, a group of our friends head out to the California desert to attend Coachella. Many of them go every single year, while my husband and I make it out when we can. Sometimes only my husband goes, while other times we've had to cut the trip short. This year, because the planets aligned just right—and my mom was available to watch my son for five days—we were both able to go and stay the entire time.

The theme this year: OLDchella ... when the average age of festival-goers is almost half as yours!

We drove up on Thursday with a couple of friends who flew in from the Bay Area, arriving at the hotel in the late afternoon. This year we stayed at the Marriott Shadow Ridge, sharing a two-bedroom suite with the couple we drove up with. The suite had plenty of space, and our bedroom had a little patio that overlooked a quiet stream.

Most of our group arrived earlier, so the party was already well underway by the time we got there. (Translation: drink up to catch up.) The group always goes out for a big pre-Coachella dinner on Thursday night; this year our reservation was at 8pm at Cliffhouse Grill & Bar in La Quinta, so I had time to drink a couple of Bloody Marys and a glass of wine before we had to pile into the huge van that would take us to and from the restaurant. I had a glass of Zinfandel with my sugar-spiced salmon, followed by coffee and their ridiculously rich Happy Point S'mores for dessert. Between me and two friends, I don't think we even ate half of it. You know you're old when you've got a massive sweet tooth and can't even finish your dessert.

After dinner, the party continued at the hotel in one our friends' suite, where my arm was twisted (with very little resistance) to have a shot of tequila (meh) and Absolut Whipped Vodka (yum). By that point, the room was definitely spinning. I think I switched to water, but I honestly don't remember much after that second shot.

To be continued. Next up, Coachella Day 1.

Love and Vomit

There are many, many things I never thought I would do or say before I became a parent. (How often I make references about my son's toilet habits, for example.) But there is one specific thing that I remember my mother doing that catches me by surprise every time I find myself doing it: I'm talking about catching my child's vomit with my bare hands.

Gross, I know. Which is why I'm surprised each and every time I have done it myself.

When I was about five years old, the open windows in my bedroom suddenly slammed the door shut behind me. Unfortunately, one of my fingers was still back there. On the plus side, it wasn't severed completely, and the doctors were able to reattach the wayward tip. I was knocked out for the operation, and I remember waking up feeling very, very ill. As soon as I sat up, out came the vomit, and I very clearly remember my mother rushing over with her hands cupped just below my mouth.

For the longest time I thought, "Damn, that some nasty shit right there!" I never understood how she could have done that. (As an aside, my parents were both workaholics and we spent a lot of time with nannies. Apart from the finger incident, I don't really recall any memories of being sick with the flu or a stomach bug as a young child.)

Last night (and this morning), my son barfed. As I've done every time he's gotten sick in these past four years, my cupped hands automatically shot below his mouth to catch it. And after EVERY. SINGLE. TIME ... I think to myself, "Good lord, it's like what my mom did for me!"

I guess I like to think of it as something a parent would do, unconditionally, for her child. That, no matter little time my mom and I spent together, she would still do that for me. No matter how angry or frustrated I get at my son, I would still do that for him. There is no truer sign of love than catching someone else's vomit!

And, I'm somewhat shallow. Better my hands than that expensive rug? ;)

One Night in Vegas

What was the occasion? Write about the last time you stayed in a hotel.

November 2011. Las Vegas. Hard Rock Hotel.

For the past several years, my husband's annual holiday part has been held at the Hard Rock in Vegas. I almost didn't get to go since my husband's annual "boys trip" to Vegas turned out to be on the same weekend, and he almost took one of his buddies with him to the party. I was bummed. I love going to Vegas - the drinks, the food, and yeah, some gambling too. Thn the idea came up that I could just come out for one night for the party, then my husband would still have the rest of the weekend to spend with his buddies. Yes! But there was another caveat: I had just found out I was pregnant at the time, so that meant no drinking and no heavy partying*. Oh well, I thought, I could still have fun. I love Vegas!

We got there and checked into our awesome suite at the Hard Rock. We chilled for a bit before getting ready for the night. I wore the same dress and shoes from last year's party because...well, I don't really have many dressy things in my closet. Honestly, the annual holiday party is the only time I ever get to dress up. No worries, I thought; people were so blitzed last year that I doubt they'd remember.

The living room portion of our suite.

Behind the TV wall was the lovely, fluffy bed.

Speaking of...that was another reason I really wanted to go last year. I got SO SHITFACED the previous year that I didn't even make it to the party. Halfway through dinner, I was practically passed out at our dining table at Nobu that my husband and a coworker had to escort me back to our room. While my husband partied downstairs, I spent the rest of the night either in bed or with my head in the toilet. Good times.

So between my resolve NOT to repeat what happened at the previous party and the fact that I wasn't allowed to drink any alcohol, I figured I had a very good chance of making it to the party this time! We had dinner at Nobu again, but this time with a different set of my husband's coworkers and their partners. Dinner was lovely, even though I had to sneak a peek at my iPhone a couple of times to check whether this fish or that was safe for me to eat. We hadn't announced the pregnancy yet, so with my fake cocktail, no one was the wiser. After dinner, we headed to the party, which was already in full swing. They played a lot of hip hop and dance, which I managed to get my husband to dance with me for a bit. For much of the party we walked around and chatted with a bunch of other people, as well as sit down, rest, and people-watched. We even went back out into the casino or gamble a bit, but we called it a night fairly early. Tired, but certainly in much better shape than in the previous year.

The next morning, unfortunately, I had to catch an early flight back to LA. While I would have loved to stay longer, all in all, I had a great time and was so glad it worked out.

*As I briefly mentioned in a previous post, we ended up losing the baby in early December. From what my doctors said, the baby had stopped developing around the time of the party. When I should have been nine weeks along, I was only showing as six. Two ultrasounds made it clear that itnhad stopped growing. I'm now fine with the loss, but part of me can't help but wonder if it was anything I did that somehow hurt the pregnancy. I didn't drink, but I did have a few cigarettes. Was it that? Was it the dancing? The heels? The food? The fatigue of travel?? It was a blighted ovum; something, most likely genetically, caused the fetus to stop developing. I know that, but sometimes I still wonder...

Nerve-Wracking

The question from Mama Kat's Weekly Writing Prompts: A case of the nerves! When was the last time you had them and how did you get through it?

The last time? This past Sunday when I had to take my four-year-old to a preschool classmate's birthday party.

See, for as much as I "talk" online, I'm actually a very introverted person. I'm not necessarily shy, I just prefer to do things on my own. But I get very stressed out in social situations where I barely know anyone while everyone else knows one another. I'm not good at going up to people and having genuine chats with them. Sure, I can do small talk, but I'm not a fan of those. So I had been stressed out about this party all week, and by Sunday morning, I honestly felt like throwing up. In the shower, I stood there shaking, even though hot water was pouring down on me. I considered taking an Ativan.

How did I get through it? It just had to be done. If I declined the invitation, I would be doing my son a disservice. As I mentioned in my previous post, my son needs a little help in getting to know his classmates. I should be thankful that we were even invited. I have to cast aside my own fears if it helps my son even in the smallest bit. I left the Ativan in the bottle, took many deep breaths on the drive to the party, and steeled my nerves as best as I could. I'm pretty sure I thought to myself, "It won't be that bad, you'll probably be chasing him down during the entire party. There probably won't even be many instances where you're sitting there by yourself, all pathetic-like."

In the end, it really wasn't that bad. Sure, there was one awkward moment when my son and I sat down to eat, and he decided to sit at a table away from the rest of the kids—but in all honesty, was it such a big deal? Five minutes later, we were back outside to play, then it was time for the cake, and all the kids were able to gather around to sing "Happy Birthday." Yes, I survived, and I know I made it a bigger deal than I should have. (But isn't that what anxiety usually is?)

We have two more preschool birthday parties the next two weekends. On Sunday morning, I'll probably be hyperventilating again in the shower, but a mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do.

Updates: Potty Training, Speech Therapy, and Making Friends

I'm a horrible blogger.

Well, more specifically, it's like I'm too ADD to keep posting in one place. I may have been neglecting this blog, but at least I've (mostly) kept up with my photography blog over at (Over)Caffeinated Snapshots. Also, lately I've been trying to post more on my tumblr, which I like because it lets me post quickly whatever might be on my mind or repost something I like.

As for the parenting side of things ... lots of things.

My four-year-old is still not fully potty trained. Some days seem better than others, but I'd like to say (hopefully without jinxing myself) that my son is also getting the hang of it. It's just been a (long) frustrating journey, and having the patience to deal is definitely one of my weakest points.

My son is also back in speech therapy. This is something I should have jumped on last year, after his three-year checkup, but just never got around to it. The topic came up again when I spoke with his preschool teachers in the beginning of February, and they suggested that it might help, not just with overall language skills, but also with connecting with the other kids.

Speaking of which ... it causes me great anxiety when I think of my son not making any friends at school. As his teachers told me, the kids have been in class together for about five months already, and while boys aren't as quick to click with certain people as girls tend to, Ethan hasn't really clicked with anyone at all. They told me that there is really just one boy in the class that maybe he'll regularly play with, but even then, it's more like they happen to play with the same toys or games at the same time. When I drop my son off at school in the morning, I watch a lot of the other kids play with one another, and then there's my son, playing by himself. When I (and his teachers) ask him about any of the other kids, he has a hard time naming any of them.

Now, I don't see my son brooding over this, and honestly, right now it's probably a bigger deal to me than it is to him. I should understand perfectly, since I'm an introvert and prefer to do things on my own. However, my son is MUCH more social than I am. This is a kid who loves to talk to and interact with other people, so it worries me when I don't see him playing with the kids at school. As his teachers mentioned, maybe his difficulty communicating with the other kids have turned them off from engaging him in play, or that he gets frustrated and doesn't want to engage in play. His teachers didn't mention any negative behaviors, but sometimes I can't help but think that the other kids just don't really like him. Sure, he's crazy and tends to be loud and wild, but he's a good kid and has a good heart. I know it's only preschool, but I just don't want him bullied or otherwise made fun of.

I'm hoping speech therapy helps with his language skills—that better language skills will lessen any frustration he has communicating with others (or lessen the frustration others may have in understanding him).

Sick. Again.

"Soggy tissues, gobs of guck. Sniffing, sneezing, snorting, YUCK!"

Seriously, Llama Llama Home with Mama may very well be our theme book these last few months. My son came down with a nasty cold starting last Thursday. I tried my best to protect myself, but it was inevitable that I'd catch it too. By Monday, I was sneezing, coughing, and all-around a hot mess.

Fun with Playgrounds (and Photography)

Nothing says JOY like the face of a child at a playground.

Taken with my Canon Rebel XTi and Lensbaby Composer Pro lens.

By the way, I'd like to plug my photography blog over at http://overcaffeinatedsnapshots.wordpress.com. As I wrote over there, I've promised myself that in 2012, I would work on making myself a better photographer (and to have more fun with it). After receiving some new gear for Christmas, I'm having a blast! (And so is my son — he usually asks to see the LCD display on my camera each time I take a shot.)

Baking with Friends

My son loves to cook, pretend or otherwise. His toy foods and mini kitchen have been his favorite toys for almost two years now, and this past Christmas, we finally got him his own Easy Bake oven so that he could bake his own treats like mommy. (After picking him up from preschool a couple of weeks ago, one of the teachers asked me if we owned a restaurant. When I asked why, she mentioned that they noticed how enthusiastic my son is about play-cooking and serving food to the other kids.)

Today we played at a friend's house, and among other things, we let the boys help bake some brownies. They took turns pouring in ingredients and stirring — as someone who loves to cook and bake, it warms my heart to see how enthralled my son is about the craft.

If he ever wants to become a chef, I would be more than happy to send him to culinary school.