Silas Update 22 months

New words: stuck, water, bear, Elmo, pray, and “TV on PLEASE!”

Food Strikes of the Day (as in, “how dare you offer me this filth!”): Cheese, carrots, and baked ziti (which was fine yesterday, but apparently he wasn’t into leftovers today).

Sweet New Habit: Silas has discovered holding hands during prayer and now asks to pray many times during the day, and sometimes several times during a meal!

Favorite Activity: washing his “Han!” (hands) in the sink. I let him pull a chair up to the sink and turn the water on a drizzle and he plays forever, or until he’s made a big mess! I recently got him a set of dishes to wash and he thinks that’s just the best!

First Day of First Grade!!

Josiah Sneaks A Look

Josiah has started trying to make me laugh. He purposefully looks away, while still glancing at me from the corner of his eye, then quickly turns his head to look at me full on. It's hilarious. I think what I like so much about it is that he is trying to be entertaining. I don't remember that with Silas, but it seems pretty early for him to want to make me laugh. Perhaps he's the class clown in the making... oh, I hope not.



The video doesn't quite do it justice, as you will see. Here he is just quickly turning his head, but his motivation is the same, to make me laugh.

This is early on a Saturday morning, so excuse the bedhead. He has great hair in the morning! And Silas is working on his "homework" before getting to watch some Saturday morning TV. *Normally, he wouldn't have to do a page from his workbook on a Saturday, but he had been sassy with the sitter the night before. Not the best consequence, but not a terrible one, either.

Summer Morning Routine...

Our mornings were getting a little out of control this summer. Silas was waking earlier and earlier, coming into our room before the sun was up, and would ask if he could watch TV. Steve is not a morning person, and so he immediately would say "yes" before I could even process what was going on. Silas was getting an hour plus of TV time before we were even out of bed! After a couple days of that (it was the beginning of summer, so I wanted to be a "little" relaxed), I came up with a summer morning routine.

First of all, Silas was to stay in his room, quietly reading books, until we were up for the day, which was usually by 7:00 or 7:30 (okay, sometimes 8:00, if Josiah was sleeping late and we had no where to be!). Then we would have breakfast together, and then he would complete some homework in his Summer Bridge Builders workbook. After that, he could then watch some TV.

Having a routine made such a difference in our mornings! He started sleeping a little later (no more 6:00 a.m.!!) and was also getting good quiet reading time in everyday. I was able to take a peak at his knowledge base, since most of the workbook was review of kindergarten, with a few previews into first grade. And the structure relieved my guilt over summer TV watching, something I always loved as a kid.

And if we had a busy morning due to a camp or some other morning activity, he would just have to do his homework before he could veg in the afternoon. Saturday's were the only morning without the homework requirement, most of the time.

Big Brother are the BEST!

Silas is such a good big brother. It seems to come naturally to him. He's not jealous, he's incredibly patient, he celebrates his little brother's achievements, and he watches out for danger. What a blessing!

Tonight while I was working on dinner, Silas asked if he could go outside. Since I was going to be cooking on the grill, I said that he could. Josiah wasn't begging to go out (yet), so I didn't offer to help put his shoes on. I heard Silas ask his brother to bring him his shoes, which he did, and then Silas put them on for him. Then they happily went out to the backyard together to play. So sweet!

It wasn't until after dinner that I noticed Josiah's shoes were on the wrong feet! Opps! I'm sure if I had done that, Josiah would have let me know right away! Just goes to show that big brothers are the BEST!

New words...

Josiah is not really talking much, but we do have a few words and signs that he uses regularly to communicate. "Hot" and "More" (which sounds more like "ma" with a light "r" sound at the end) are pretty common, although his favorite vocalization is still a scream or squeal. He signs "Please", "Thank You", "Bye-Bye" and most recently "Sorry", although he usually has to be prompted.

I'm not really uptight about his ability to communicate like I was when Silas was his age. I remember being so worried that Silas would never learn to talk and I was in such a hurry to get him to where several of his peers were, or even close to where one of his very advanced peers was, who was speaking in sentences by a year. I brought it up with his pediatrician at his 18-month check-up and she encouraged me that he was probably fine and that if he still wasn't talking in 6 months, we would have him evaluated. Well, by the time he was two he was talking as expected and now that he's 6 and reading whole (early) chapter books to himself, I laugh when I think about how worried I was.

That being said, it will be so nice when Josiah really starts talking. Tonight while I was reading to him before bedtime, the cat hopped up on the arm of the chair and Josiah clearly reached out his hand to pet the kitty and said "At". I'll take that as a "cat", for sure! And then he said, though I'm not 100% certain, what sounded like "Cat Night Night", as he waved "bye-bye" to the kitty.

So I'm getting little glimpses of "Josiah-the-Talker". I love the conversations I get to have with Silas these days and I look forward to hearing his little brother's thoughts on life as well.

A Dramatic Trip to the Hospital...

No one likes dramatic health events, especially when they happen to someone you love. That's what I kept thinking while I was sitting in the emergency room with Josiah in the middle of the night, "I don't like this. I know everything will be okay, and we will go home soon, but I don't like being here. I don't like not having answers. I don't like that my little boy is having trouble breathing and as hard as I'm praying, I'm seeing him get worse, not better. Why are we here? Why is this happening?"

Now that I've had some time to reflect on the incident, I can tell the story with fewer gaps. The hospital incident happened on a Thursday, but it may have been prompted by something the day before. We've had some questions about Josiah's tummy for some time, and on Wednesday I had a "sick" appointment at the pediatrician to drop off a stool sample and begin the process of diagnosing him. The doctor wanted to have run some blood tests, so on our way home from the visit, I stopped at a Children's Hospital branch to have the blood work done. Sadly, the phlebotomist was overwhelmed at the size of the order and the age of the patient, and the experience was a tramatic one for everyone involved. We only got about half of the order and left knowing we would have to return to finish it.

The next morning, I was not surprised that Josiah had a slight runny nose; nothing serious, just clear drainage, but I associated it with the stressful blood draw the day before and went on with our plans for the day, including a 4:00 trip to the neighborhood pool for a quick dip before dinner. It was our first trip to the pool for the season, and my first trip with both boys by myself (I avoided the pool last year without help because Josiah was too little).

I'm very laid back around water, spending so much of my own childhood at pools and on boats, I feel comfortable with the kids and don't overreact if they choke a little, which happens at some point almost everytime until they are a certain age. No matter how vigilant I am, Josiah is determined to do things his way, and occassionally he loses his footing and goes under. Most of the time, he holds his breath and comes up just fine. But in the baby pool, I let my guard down a little, and it was just deep enough that when he tipped over, he couldn't quite get his mouth out of the water before I could get to him. He choked one or two times - not terribly by any means, but he certainly got a little water in places it didn't belong, and being the baby pool, it probably was contaminated with digusting little germs.

So we came home from the pool, had dinner, and put the boys to bed without anything remarkable. Two hours after bed time, Josiah woke up and Steve went in to quiet him down. Again, nothing remarkable about that, as waking after bedtime is a usual event for us, happening a couple times a week. A little while later, he woke up again and was less consolable, so Steve rocked him and that's when he noticed his breathing was rapid and labored. It took about 5 seconds after hearing my physician-husband say, "I think he needs to go the ER" for me to start packing up and moving in that direction. (I was already in my pajamas, face washed, and I momentarily contemplated grabbing mascara - why on earth would I care how I look in the ER in the middle of the night!?!)

I prayed all the way into the hospital, with my hand reaching backwards into the backseat to hold Josiah's hand so I could somehow be alerted if he became worse. Steve had to stay home with Silas, and though my mom offered to come either to the house or to the hospital with me, I didn't feel it was necessary to drag her out in the middle of the night. She told me not to worry about finding a parking space, which I hadn't even thought about yet. So I prayed for favor and pulled up just a few minutes after 10:00, when valet parking closes. The valet was still there, and he pointed to the fire lane and told me to leave my car there and worry about it later.

I rushed Josiah in, praying constantly. He was pretty calm during this whole time, probably confused by our mid-night journey. After registering, I found a seat and prayed that the wait would be short, all the while, worrying about my car. Just then, a woman came up to me and offered to park my car for me. She had arrived just as I did with her niece, sister and mom, and saw that I was alone and couldn't move my car just then. She promised she wasn't crazy and even gave me the keys to her car while she parked mine. I was so grateful, and not at all worried that she would steal my car. She parked it for me in the parking garage (which is about the only option and a long hike from the Emergency Department), and even purchased an exit token for me to use. It was such a small thing, but it gave me so much peace. I had prayed specifically for favor and grace about parking my car, and God provided in such a clear way that I knew he was present and that everything would be okay.

We were quickly triaged and seen by a physician, who asked a bunch of questions and recommended a breathing treatment to help clear his airways. She could hear wheezing and though we didn't know the cause, she wanted to help open with inhaled steriods. Organic mom that I am consented immediately and the nurse came in with the cute elephant head mask that would serve as a torture device to my dear little boy. After starting the medicine and straping it on, she left me to fight my oh-so-strong-when-determinted toddler all by myself for the 10-15 minute treatment. Gee, thanks. It was just awful! I have no idea how moms do this!?! I ended up restraining him almost in a headlock with one arm, allowing the other to keep the mask securely in place. He fought for about 10 minutes and then passed out from exhaustion just as it was coming to an end.

The doctor checked him and ordered another treatment because he still was wheezing, and so another battle ensued, this one lasting about half as long. There was one more treatment after that one until she was satisfied that his lungs were moving air without obstruction. However, his breathing was still rapid and his fever was steadily climbing, topping out at 102.2 before we were able to find some dye-free tylenol, available only in suppostitory form. The nurse acted like I was crazy for insisting we come up with a dye-fee option, but knowing how he reacted previously to tylenol with dyes, I wanted to find an alternative if possible. (The recent recall on Tylenol products has made it difficult to find dye-free options!).

Once his fever broke, his breathing rate and heart rate returned to normal and he was finally able to rest. This was about 5 hours into the ordeal, and all this time he was in my arms, as there wasn't a crib to place him in. Seriously? This is a cHiLdReN's hosptial!!! The emergency department can't be outfitted with a few CRIBS?!?!?! ARG! Did I mention that I'm pregnant? Yes, not a fun way to spend a tired pregnant night, holding and fighting a 30-pound toddler!

Around 3:00 a.m., they moved us to an observation room which, thankfully, did have a crib, and I was finally able to put him down for some real rest. There was a recliner for me, so I could shut my eyes as well. I got very little rest, but I was thankful that Josiah was at least sleeping.

He woke up around 6:30 and seemed back to normal. The physician on the next shift came around a little before 8:00, and we were discharged around 9:30. My mom came over to help with Silas as poor Steve (who had also had a sleepless night at home with the constant texts back and forth all night while we tried to figure out what was going on) had a busy day at work and couldn't stay home. I was able to get a few hours sleep when Josiah napped and Silas had a fun day being extra spoiled by Grammy, who's love-language seems to be gift-giving.

And so we may never really know what caused this incident, unless, God-forbid, it should happen again. Was it the mini-virus he woke up with? Did he pick up something at the doctor's office the day before? Did the traumatic incident at the lab weaken his immune system? Was the pool water contaminated? We may never have the answers.

But we do have an emergency inhaler. And I am much more vigilant at the pool, even though he's still choked slightly each of the three times we've been since. We've not gone to the neighbhorhood pool again. After reading the CDC's website on water-bourne illness, I'm a little afraid to trust the chemical readings done by the neighborhood teenage lifeguards.

Dramatic health events like this one are not something I ever want to deal with again, and yet I know that there are many mothers who go through this kind of thing on a regular basis. God, be merciful! He is, and I know he equips these moms with reserves of strength they didn't know existed. God, provide answers and bring healing to these sweet little ones who suffer in their mama's arms. Let your kingdom come!

A lesson in Humility

I'm taking a Beth Moore Study, Breaking Free, and today's lesson was on the obstacle to glorifying God, our Pride. I sincerely prayed today that God would humble me. And then I went back to life. You know how you can be so spiritual one moment, and the next your wiping bottoms and thinking about what to fix for dinner. Life. It doesn't always carry the spiritual weight we want it to, and yet it holds such significance, especially in those intimate moments with our loved ones.

Steve bought me a lovely purse and scarf from a luxury store here in town for my birthday. It was an extravagant gift. Steve really likes giving extravagant gifts, and this was definitely one of them. I loved the scarf, but couldn't quite figure out the purse, so I decided I would try to exchange it for something I know that I needed, an nice evening bag. That should be that hard, right? I mean, a high end purse store ought to be able to produce a nice bag to take to the symphony, shouldn't it?

I felt completely out of my element even before I walked into the store. I changed out of my "mom" clothes and tried to put on something a little nicer for my errand, but I still felt inadequate. I felt conspicuous as I walked in, carrying a shopping bag with me. Of course, this was a signal to the sales representatives to prepare for a return. I requested help with an exchange, explaining that I didn't think this bag was the right fit and that what I really needed was an evening bag. They, the team of 3 who greeted me upon entering, made me feel so small. I was overwhelmed by the choices and by the price tags. It was awful. I couldn't wait to get out of there.

After looking at a few items, I realized that I wasn't seeing what I had in mind, and someone offered that I could go through the website to see if I found what I wanted there. She was the least intimating of the three, and so I took her up on her offer. After finding a couple purses for which I could settle, I decided to call Steve. I felt like I needed an ally, and this was my way of feeling like I had someone on my side. I explained to him that I didn't see what I had in mind, but that there were two purses that I could select, though it wasn't really what I wanted. He said if I didn't love, love, love them, that I should just return the bag and ask for my money back and go somewhere else to find what I wanted.

Feeling like I now had permission, I informed my sales associate. Of course, even that couldn't be simple. Pulling out my cheap wallet that I had picked up in an airport somewhere, I realized that our credit card company had recently re-issued our cards due to a possible compromise on their end. So I no longer had the card ending in "5805". (Bummer too, because I liked that number - easy to remember as it's the same number as a familiar address). That brought a sigh and some comment about how the people in Loss & Theft won't like that the numbers won't match and she'll have to make a note on the receipt. Now, I felt like a criminal. A poor, tasteless, classless, awkward, dorky, out-of-place criminal.

I wanted to ask the Lofty Three if they had kids. I wanted to connect, or bring them to a level I could understand. Maybe they do have kids, but it felt like they were fast paced snobs who were lucky in life, luckier than I might ever hope to be. They were probably the store openers, brought in from NYC and that they were just biding their time in cow-town USA. Regardless, they were something completely "other" than who I want to be.

I was so glad to get out of there, and I couldn't quite figure out my emotions, so I took a walk to some familiar stops to calm down, one of which is a very nice jewelry store nearby. I felt so comfortable there, looking at fine jewelry, chatting comfortably with the sales associates, even though I had no intention to buy whatsoever. I didn't feel like I was wasting anyone's time, that my outfit, purse or jewelry wasn't good enough. I was happy to have a "Breakfast at Tiffany's" moment at a store that's even better (in my opinion) than Tiffany's.

By the time I returned home, I was so ready to see my family, to hug my children, to take a walk around the block and to play in the backyard. This is what makes me feel comfortable: happy moments of a humble life. It's not about what I can brag about, or show off, or who will be impressed. It's about the satisfaction of a smile, playing "space station", eating popcorn and playing games, and watching movies and reading books. There's nothing really remarkable in any of it, and yet, I so love my life!

So I wonder if God allowed this experience today to show me something about my pride. Was my pride at the root of all my emotions today? If I had been humble from the start, would I have cared what image I portrayed to total strangers? Would I have allowed myself to get so worked up? Where do I get my identity? Is it from the world, or from God?

"This is the one I esteem: he who is humble and contrite in spirit, and trembles at my word." Isaiah 66:2b

"For this is what the high and lofty One says - he who lives forever, whose name is holy: 'I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite." Isaiah 57:15

I hope I am learning a lesson in humility. Or I might end up like poor king Nebuchadnezzar who set himself higher than God but finally got the message and later said "Praise and exalt and glorify the King of heaven, because everything he does is right and all his ways are just. And those who walk in pride He is able to humble." Daniel 4:37

I bow down before His Majesty. To God be the glory!

No more training wheels!

Silas was so excited about the plans he and his dad had made. Today they were going to take his training wheels off, he told me, and together Silas would learn to ride his bike. All afternoon, he practiced balancing without his training wheels and anxiously awaited his dad's arrival.

When Steve got home from work, he didn't even come in the house. He went straight to work getting the training wheels off. And before I could show up with my arsenal of memory making paraphenalia, Silas was riding his bike on his own, no training wheels and no dad holding onto his shaking bike. Nope. He just took off as if he's always riden his bike on two wheels.

I am so proud of the boy Silas is growing up to be. He is funny and sweet. He loves to laugh - it's probably his favorite thing ever. He is blossoming as a reader and it is just thrilling to the educator inside of me to hear him read. I find him with books all the time now, and yet he still loves to be read to - I hope that lasts for a very long time. I've been reading him different stories from the Bible that come up during my Bible study. Tonight I read him the story of Samson from Judges 13 - 16. He seems to comprehend it well enough and it's spurring some good, tough questions.

This has to be the best stage yet! What a blessing!

Ordinary...

I take my memory for granted, but memory is so fleeting. I think I'll always remember the way Josiah's breath smells so sweet, or how Silas comes in on a Saturday morning to announce the arrival of morning, even though it's impossible to wake him at the exact same hour on a school day.

Tonight, Josiah and I danced around the kitchen while I cleaned up. Steve had taken Silas out to "clear his head" - code for buy mommy presents. So I turned on some praise music and washed dishes, stopping occasionally to spin around with Josiah. He was so tickled to hold my fingers and dance with me, really connecting to me and letting me lead him.

And he climbed the little slide in the play room all by himself today and slid down. I excitedly informed Silas who was not as impressed as I; apparently Josiah has done that for him before. I love that they spend quiet time together now. Sometimes Silas wants to be alone, which is fine. But other times he wants his brother to play with him upstairs. I've only been comfortable with that for a few weeks now, but it really is sweet.

Josiah has shown some willfulness a time or two, but I'm smarter this time and have new tricks up my sleeve. He was starting a pattern of pitching fits when I buckled him into his carseat and I was forced to overpower him to go anywhere. Then it occurred to me to have him help me click the buckle, and now, he's so happy about it that he often buckles again at the end of our trip when I'm getting him out. (Note: he does not actually do the buckling himself at this point, he just rests his hands on the buckles while I click them in.)

On our recent vacation to Florida, Steve and I kept looking at each other, in awe of how delightful Silas was. Seriously, the kid was a joy to be around. And since then, he's really come into his own. He's funny, witty, and smart. He is reading so well - he actually read an entire book to Josiah recently while I was fixing dinner! So FUN! Tonight, I found a craft for him to work on that that involved measuring, and he quickly learned how to use the ruler and accurately cut out the proper lengths so we could make a little bird for his teacher. I am so proud of him. This is such a fun age and stage and I'm really trying to savor it all.

Saying goodbye to "Foo foo" once again...

Josiah has really turned into a "toddler" in the last few weeks, leaving the title "baby" behind. He is starting to understand certain questions like, "Do you want to go upstairs/downstairs?" and "Do you want to take a bath?" He is showing preferences towards how foods are offered (he really likes using a fork by himself), and showing extreme displeasure from time to time. For the most part, he obeys when I say "no", though I probably redirect him so quickly that he doesn't always have time to disobey.

Josiah is 15 months old now, and we have started to wean him from his pacifier (we call it foo foo). This is NOT an easy thing to do. But we waited too long with Silas and feel that it would be better to start early than have orthodontic issues later.

The first night was the hardest. Following my pediatrician's recommendation, I cut the tip off two pacifiers and put him to bed. He cried a lot that night, and I went in frequently to comfort him. It was so sad.

I was prepared for another bad night when I put him down the next night, but was pleasantly surprised that he only cried a few minutes and then slept FOR THE NIGHT! And that's been pretty consistent now ever since.

The last few days, he has been really cranky in the evenings, and I find him stuffing his hands into his mouth for comfort. I was afraid he might switch to fingers, but our doctor says she'd rather he switched to fingers as fingers don't stay in all night. We certainly didn't do Silas any favors by letting him have his pacifier as long as he did as he developed an "open bite" from sucking on it all night. His next dentist appointment will also provide us with a referral to an orthodonist.

So this is an early transition, but hopefully, it will be blessed and we will look back without regrets.

Ice Skating...

Silas wants to be a hockey player when he grows up. We're not sure why. He's never seen a hockey game and knows nothing about the sport, but he decided that he wanted to be a hockey player. At preschool graduation last year, the students were asked what they wanted to be when they grow up, and I think one of his classmates gave him the idea.

When asked what he likes about hockey, he says that he likes the puck." What about the puck?" "I just like it."

Okay.

So I decided that over his Christmas break, I would take him ice skating.

He hated it.

It took an extreme amount of conjoling to get him to go around a total of three times in one hour. I parked him on the team bench a few times and made a few laps myself, hoping to give him a chance to study what others were doing so he could get it.

It didn't help. He was so distracted by everyone else that he just kept falling. He must have fallen over a hundred times. It was ridiculous.

So after we had our snack and loaded up in the car, I pointed out that he wasn't going to make much money as a hockey player if he couldn't ice skate. So now he wants to be a soccer player because he's "good at soccer".