At the age of two he couldn’t say anything more than “ma-ee” and “no.” Now if Seth is in a room? There’s a rarely a silent moment.

He used to have a difficult time coordinating his upper and lower body while running. His arms and shoulders would droop while his little legs moved. Now he’s one of the fastest kids on his soccer team and in his second grade class.

He used to be terrified of the water. Now he swims like a fish.

He used to be scared of riding his bike, even with training wheels. Now he can easily maneuver on the tricky, wooded bike paths by our house.

He used to rarely sleep through the night. He’d often awaken and scream. Calming him down was very difficult. Now he sleeps peacefully and soundly every night.

He used to have problems writing, drawing, and picking up small objects. His fine motor skills were very weak. Now he connects the tiniest Lego pieces together to create his own masterpieces.

He used to only eat about four different foods. (He even hated pizza.) Now he eats broccoli, green peppers, green beans, potstickers, tempura and various Mexican food.

He used to require almost constant interaction. Now he’ll lose himself in his Lego creations for almost an hour at a time.

He used to need special help with reading. Now he reads effortlessly and is ahead of where he should be.

He was diagnosed with Sensory Integration Dysfunction (or Sensory Processing Disorder) and Verbal Apraxia five years ago. He was diagnosed with ADHD not quite two years ago. Thanks to some wonderful people who have helped him throughout the years (speech therapist, occupational therapist, teachers, counselors, neurologist, etc,.) he’s persevered and flourished. (It truly does take a village.) He still has a few issues but overall, he’s working hard. He’s a fighter. And a sweet, snuggly, silly, vivacious one at that.

If you’re a parent who’s child has been diagnosed with any of these issues, please know that while there is alot of work in store for you, watching your child progress is one of the sweetest experiences there is. There is hope. And there is help.

Energetic little boys are tough to wear out. But I’ve been trying my best to tucker out the one I have. Hence, posting has been light lately.

Recently we did a “Seth’s Nirvana Day”. The day started with me cursing while trying to fit two bicycles into the back of my vehicle. That part wasn’t exactly fun but once situated we were on our way, as Seth played air guitar to a few while heading to McDonald’s. We took our lunch out to a park with a bike trail he’d yet to try.

BS (Before Seth), the hubs and I loved to go biking in various parks throughout the St. Louis area.  The bumpier the trail, the more fun we had. So when Seth started to get good at bike riding, the hubby introduced him to a few local trails. Seth loved the feeling of wind in his face and pedals beneath his feet.

But prior to a week ago, I hadn’t been on my bike in many, many years — as in before I was pregnant with Seth. I was a little worried but knew our little “date” would make for a happy boy.

So we tried out the new trail and explored some areas off the sandy path. Seth loved it. And I was suprised at how easy it was to get back on the bike and ride out the bumps. I’d forgotten how much fun it is to ride a bike.

I did remember how my big ole’ butt would get a bit sore from being perched atop that teeny, tiny bicycle seat. And, yup. Same issue this time. Only I don’t remember my butt STAYING sore for a whole week. But I’ve got a plan for next time. 

After a few hours of riding, we went to Dairy Queen for a Blizzard. We ate that outside as well. There was also more jamming. It was a great day for a wild little man on the cusps of seven.

We’ll be going out again soon to explore a few more trails. If you see us, say “hi”. We’ll be easy to spot. Seth is the blonde kid who’s ”squirrelling out” nonstop (and I mean non. stop.) on a blue bike. I’ll be the blonde with a big, cushy pillow strapped to my butt. 

Check out the feature on Raquita at the St. Louis Bloggers Guild site.

And if you were thinking about a PUR pitcher? Here’s a revew at MotherOfBun Reviews… Oh and a review of some pretty tastey peanut butter too as well as a Father’s Day gift idea.

… Oh yeah and here’s an article about a St. Louis couple who launched a fitness biz, how ADHD kids affect marriage and a cool website marrieds in the ‘lou can use. Oh and when you or your honey travels? Here’s how to keep that lovin’ feeling strong.

A great friend and I also have another project in the works. We’re not ready to debut just yet. But in a few days we will be. And when that happens, I’ll let ya’ll know!

I should have known better than to announce a pregnancy in the first trimester. I should have known better than to let the fertility gods know we were thrilled with their decision. And I should have known better than to start cleaning out my office, thinking of it now as “the baby’s room”. Because today some cosmic force decided we were in need of a blind-sided, bitchslap.

The embryo growing within me was more than a developing clump of cells. It was a growing bundle of hope. For a number of reasons, 2008 was a very tough year for my husband and me. Yet we survived. We might not have gotten through it all gracefully, but we withstood the hardships and managed to gain some valuable insights along the way. We saw this delicate, tiny surprise as the cosmos’ ”reward” for surviving the struggle. This baby we’d tried to conceive for years was a result of love recaptured and restored.

An ultrasound from a few weeks ago revealed a strong, beating heart. We were elated and started to refer to the baby as “Roo”. But when today’s ultrasound brought silence and stillness, Marc and I both knew what would come next. This has become a familiar path for us… The experience begins with the ultrasound tech’s awkward silences and after a few minutes, a quiet apology…  It ends with numbly scheduling a surgery and driving home only to realize you aren’t coming home the same person you were a mere hour ago…

At some point this week, I will emerge from an artificial sleep and stare into the bright lights of a surgical recovery room. I will hear a nurse cheerfully say, “Its all over. You did fine.” As she helps me get dressed, I’ll know that our little Roo is no longer inside of me. My husband will wheel me out of the center and gently help me in the car. But the grogginess won’t prevent me from noticing the physical feeling of hollowness inside me. 

My body will heal. There will be good days. There will be bad days. There will probably be a time or two where I call my mom to cry. But at least we have our Seth. Our sweet, silly, lively, little man. Maybe someday we’ll have more children. Maybe not. For now, we hold our son close. We learn what we can from this experience. We shed tears when we need to. We laugh, cry and wonder aloud, “What else is the universe going to throw our way?”

We keep our hearts open. And we remain thankful for that burst of sunshine we revelled in this winter — as fleeting as it was.

Lately, I’ve notice something saddening.

My bond with “the boy” seems weakened. We don’t play like we used to. We don’t act silly together anymore. And I’m missing him. I crave time with him. I’ve gotten so into this blogging thing (writing for other blogs, my own and a few other projects) that I feel distracted when I’m with him. I’m always thinking about the next post or what e-mail needs to be written. Or, if I don’t have the quiet time, there’s always one more thing to clean.

It’s getting me down. Especially since first grade is around the corner. He’s growing up fast. I don’t want to wake up years from now and wonder, “Who IS this person?” I want KNOW him. And I don’t want him to question whether his mother loves her computer more than she loves him. (Because he’s started doing that. Breaks my heart.)

I’ve had to pull back before when other areas of my life need to extra attention. And I’ve got to pull back now for a few weeks. I MISS my little boy.

My husband and I rarely talk. He sits in front of his laptop in the evenings. I clean up from dinner, or prepare for the next day, get Seth off to bed, shower then sit in front of mine. By the end of the night, hubby and I have hardly spoken. We seem like roommates. And its sad. We both need to break away from our electronic bonds. And that change is going to have to start with me. I need to take care of my little family first. For now.

Since I’ve made commitments to others, I plan to keep those. But posting here might be sporadic. But I hope to visit everyone as much as possible though.

Recently Kristin’s boys were talking about the phrases she uses most often — so often they’d probably end up on her tombstone. And then she asked her readers, “what phrases will be on your tombstone?”

Here are some of mine:

“Are you wearing underwear? Because we can’t go to grandma’s unless you’re wearing underwear.” (The boy likes to go “commando” and that really freaks out my mom.)

“No being bossy. That’s MY job.”

“Get your finger out of your nose.”

“Dude. Stop giving yourself a wedgie.” (Really, what is WITH that?)

What phrases are you known for by friends and family? What will be on your tombstone?

The hubby and I were one of those couples who couldn’t wait to find out the sex of our baby. I remember the moment we laid eyes on our little boy — and his privates. There he was in black and white, grainy glory — giving us the finger.

My first thought was “What in the WORLD am I going to do with a boy?” Its not that I didn’t like boys. They just sort of scared me because I didn’t understand the them. 

Now that I have a little boy, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Its been an educational and entertaining journey to say the least. But then again, I still don’t understand the boys that are older than Seth — especially the ones that range from 8 to 12-ish.  I call that ”the meat head stage”. Why is it fun to beat the crap out of each other? Why is it hysterically funny to fart in someone’s face? Just. don’t. get.

A few days ago, three neighbor boys (in this age range) were hurling aluminum bats at each other. They weren’t running away from the bats, they were trying to CATCH them. For fun! (These are sweet kids with great parents, by the way.)

Last week Seth’s play date Nick was telling us about his big brother’s best friend “Scooter”. And how Scooter once knocked Nick down and peed in his face. At the time I assumed Scooter was a dog. But nope. Scooter is a person. (Don’t know anything about Scooter. But my guess as to Scooter’s future? Involves at least two trips to jail and if he’s lucky, a stint in some ”g0lden sh0wer” type porn. )

I know my sweet, albeit squirrelly, little boy will have us visiting urgent care facilities in a few years due to his own meat head antics. It seems to be some rite of passage. But thinking about it makes my palms sweat. Who knew the temptation to wrap a kid in 32 layers of bubble wrap could be so strong? 

P.S. Just reviewed a cool new kids toy thanks to Parent Bloggers Network. For my review, click here.

I’ll never forget that first year of Seth’s life. I envisioned us going to the St. Louis zoo, Bontanical Gardens, The Jewel Box, St. Louis Science Center, Laumeier Sculpture Park, and Art Museum so often employees would know us by our first names. I was going to fill his little bunny brain with lots of amazing sights, sounds, textures and tastes.

And then reality gave me a swift kick in the ass.  This little boy had colic. This little boy didn’t sleep. This little boy had alot of ear infections. This little boy wasn’t much of an eater. This little boy screamed. Alot. This little boy proved that he’d inherited his father’s will of steel.

So we spent alot of time in two places — in Target and at various restaurants. (Oh and the grocery story. Excuse me, THREE places. He liked carts for some reason.) Sure there were trips to Maryland, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Wisconsin, and New Orleans. There might have even been a trip or two to the zoo, a museum, and botanical gardens. To be honest, I don’t really remember. He would wake up  four to six times a night. (That first year is hazy.)

But all of those trips to Target worked out. By three years of age, he knew the local store so well he could navigate through the various departments. (He was a like GPS — only full of fuss and poop.)

Yeah, for us the first year was rough. It would have been wonderful to have known back then that there was a huge and amazing community of moms only a click away. Course it would also have been very helpful to know about the book, The Rookie Mom’s Handbag too. (And just so you know, we did visit all of those places and tons of parks during his second and third years. You know, when we were both sleeping better.)

The book is the brilliant idea of the busy chicks behind Rookie Moms. Plus there’s more than 250 activities that moms can do with their babies. How cool is that? Oh and if you want to get a shower gift that’s different and cool and useful, this is a great book!

The Rookie Mom bloggers in conjunction with Parent Bloggers Network would like to know how you spent your first year of motherhood. Post anytime this weekend - Friday, May 9 through Sunday, May 11. Within your post, make sure to link http://www.rookiemoms.com and http://blog.parentbloggers.com then email parentbloggers@gmail.com. with the link to your post. Feel free to get creative with your title!

According to PBN, “you could win one of two fantastic gift bags filled with more than $250 worth of goodies for moms, including the brand new BABYBJÖRN^®Baby Carrier Synergy, a child’s gardening kit from Smith & Hawken, a baby tshirt from Scout Organic Baby, and of course, a copy of The Rookie Mom’s Handbook.  Two winners will be drawn at random. Plus, Heather and Whitney will choose their three favorite posts and feature them on their website!”

Caution: Bitchy rant that will probably make you think less of me ahead. 

Most mornings, you can find my son and I in the breakfast nook. His brow is furrowed. My temper is tested. There is alot teeth grinding on both our parts. I’m talking homework.

We sit together for almost an hour each morning. Since his kindergarten session starts in the afternoon, we started doing homework in the mornings, when his brain is fresh. (Next year will be a whole different schedule.) But it doesn’t seem to matter - it is still a constant struggle.

Its not that he’s got an hour of homework — he usually only gets homework a few times a week. These worksheets should only take the child 10-20 minutes. But yet… With all of the lollygagging, singing about poopy butts and weenies, screeching, calling the dog, asking for a drink, going to the bathroom, whining, playing with the eraser, arguing, and fussing, these worksheets take more like 30-40 minutes.

And that’s only IF I’m standing right next to him to say, “Seth. Now you need to write a lowercase ‘r’. No, that’s uppercase. You need to erase that. Write a lowercase ‘r’. Seth! You just wrote another capital ‘r’. You need to write a small ‘r’. (He finally writes the ‘r’.) Ok great. Do you see you’re trying to write the word ‘rat’, what comes after the ‘r’. Yes! Its the ‘at’ sound. How do you think that’s spelled? Yes! ‘a’ and ’t’. Very good. Now write the ‘a’ and ‘t’. No, not on this other line. You need to write the ‘a’ and ‘t’ right next to the ‘r’. We’re writing the word ‘rat’ remember? Ok. Dude, what is that? That doesn’t look like an ‘a’. Remember? An ‘a’ is a circle and a stick, Bunny. No that stick is on the wrong side of the circle.

After 20 minutes of this. (I’m losing patience faster as the school year wears on.) I get frustrated and start talking to him in a very irritated tone. And I wonder… Why can’t the child just write out the freaking ‘r’ and the ‘at’ on the same line? Why can’t he just do it without me standing over him? When I volunteer in his classroom, I see kids doing their work by themselves. Why can’t Seth do that? Is this normal? Is there something wrong with me and my approach? Is there something wrong with him? I see other kids follow directions, why can’t he? (We spend alot of time correcting work he did at school - not that he didn’t know the material - he just didn’t follow directions or finish the project.)

And since his skills aren’t up to par in certain areas we do extra little projects. He brings them in to his teacher — mainly so she can see he’s trying. (And also, because I don’t think she’d believe me otherwise.) He’s come a long way with his fine motor skills since the beginning of the year but… There’s alot more that needs to be done. (The bright-side is that his handwriting is more legible than hubby’s chicken scratch.)

I can tell the homework has taken a toll on our relationship. We aren’t as close as we used to be. What doesn’t help is that I’m the one who has to make sure he does all of those things he hates to do - like shower, brush teeth, enforce bedtimes, eat veggies, do homework and so forth. Hubby takes him ice skating for two hours then out for an cream dinner and HE’s the hero. I’m the big, bad bitch.

When I think of the upcoming years of homework help, I start to wonder if I can talk my doctor into giving me a script for a lifetime supply of Valium. Clearly ONE of us needs some sort of medicine to keep from going crazy and strangling the other.

But I have to wonder… Is all of this “normal”?

P.S. I know that the kitchen isn’t usually the best environment for kids to do homework. But we have no other kids. The breakfast nook is one of the quietest places in the house. With all of the construction and remodeling of neighbor homes as well as trash and delivery trucks driving by, the rooms facing  the street are far more distracting than a little room that faces a quiet back yard.

While at a certain camp in New Jersey, we bloggers learned of a very cool program cleverly named InfantSEE.  Many of us were amazed — we feel like a pretty in-the-know lot. But most of us had never heard of this program, let alone taken advantage. Since many readers of this little blog are moms with young kids, I wanted to pass this info along.

Most parents don’t think twice about scheduling/schlepping kids to doctor and dentist appointments.  But for some reason we usually don’t think about our kids’ vision. Many of us (me included) assume that if there was an early vision problem, the pediatrician would catch it. But that’s not always the case. And vision problems, especially undiagnosed ones, affect the way your child learns, interprets and interacts with the world.  And that’s why there’s InfantSEE.

 According to the organization’s website, “InfantSEE® is a public health program designed to ensure that eye and vision care becomes an integral part of infant wellness care to improve a child’s quality of life… Our member optometrists will provide a comprehensive infant eye assessment within the first year of life as a no cost public health service. ”

For a list of participating doctors as well as information on your baby’s eye health and program background, check out the organization’s site. K? 

P.S. Oh and if you get really heavy periods? You might want to read the piece I posted on Midwestern Mommy Reviews.

Disclaimer: This is a gross story. And frankly, it is in terrible taste. But this is what comes with raising a boy — or at least one with the genetics of Seth’s kind – so proceed with caution.

Five days ago, I cleaned all three bathrooms, scrubbing sinks, toilets, tubs and floors. Two days later, while passing by “the boy’s” bathroom, I smelled a strong unpleasant odor. I moved the wastebasket next to the toilet and found a BIG puddle of pee.

Did you know that as urine begins to dry, the outsides of the puddle crystalize, yet the inside portion takes on a whole other property? (Most moms with boys know this.) It is nasty, nasty, nasty! Yeah, I didn’t know that until I had a little boy with really BAD aim.

There was also a puddle behind the tank of the toilet and a small amount in front of the bowl. I was PISSED. (Pun intended.)

The lack of trying within the “aiming department” is nothing new. I’ve kvetched, cajoled, and have gotten incredibly cranky before. He’s even had to clean up some of the mess a few times but that didn’t seem to bother him. Once I even told him I was going to start charging him a $1 to clean up the really nasty spills. (He gets an allowance now for certain chores.). Forking over a buck didn’t bother him in the least.

So this time?

“Peeing while standing up is a privilege. And you just lost it for a week,” I said. “From now on, if you’ve got to go, you SIT on the toilet – LIKE A GIRL!”  

A look of horror and dread filled his face. I watched the notion sink in. The idea tortured his manly little soul.

“NNNNNooooooooooooooo,” he screamed desperately. “I’ll do better next time! I promise!”

 ”Pfft. I’ve heard that before,” I retorted. “I’m tired of cleaning up your messes. Its disgusting. You’ve got to pay more attention to your aim. If you can’t do that, you’ve got to sit down.”

Its been three days. Each day he asks, several times, when his “privilege” will be restored. While he IS sitting down, he still ends up “spraying” some odd places. That’s not helping his cause. I think I might tack on some extra days to his “sentence.” I hope with all my heart that someday he fathers four boys who can’t aim worth a damn and HE’s the one with bathroom duty.

Just wait child. Karma! That’s all I’ve got say.

On another note, how do the rest of you moms nip this behavior in the bud?

(This post is dedicated to Marty, who just gave birth to a little boy as well as Julie, who’s pregnant with a little boy.) 

There are certain things about parenting a little boy that you don’t think about when you’ve got one “in the oven” and are lovingly folding little blue onesies in anticipation.

Like how little boy babies smell so sweet. But that scent wears off as they grow. And soon, you find that sweaty little boy smells alot like wet puppy.

Or how a man’s love for the remote control starts as an infant. See this pic? (Click on it to enlarge.)  That’s how we got Seth to roll over. Put the remote control JUST out of his reach. 

You probably already know that little boys LOVE their wieners. And how as toddlers, if they aren’t playing with it, they are showing it off. A bath for a toddler boy just means quality time with the wiener without impediments. Some little boys, (I won’t mention names) even like to sleep with one hand in their pants. My only guess is that they are trying to ensure their beloved body part isn’t stolen by some hapless creature with penis envy in the thick of night.

And of course there’s that time when those little boys are finally potty trained. A novice mom like me rejoiced thinking this would mean less work. But a mom who’s been down this path knows better.  (She might not tell you this but I will.) Little boys have HORRIBLE aim. Actually, alot of MEN have horrible aim. This just means that instead of changing a diaper? You are wiping down walls, the side of the vanity, natches in the trim, the toilet, underneath the bowl, the sides of the toilet, the wastebasket, and the toilet paper holder and the floor. If your child has some serious “water pressure”? You may even be wiping down the sink or mirror. In this case, hardwood floors aren’t really a good idea.  Oy.

But those little boys sure are cute. And cuddly. And loving. Be prepared for the marriage proposals your young Oedipus will make as well as the countless dandelions he will diligently pick for you on a summer day. Be prepared for the way he will rush to your defense if you’re pretending to the “the queen” and his dad is “the bad guy” trying to kidnap you. Sure, he might mention your “biiiiiigggg butt” now and again, but he’ll also say things like “You are the prettiest mommy eber” then kiss your nose. What woman can resist that?

And should your son become interested Star Wars? I’m telling you right now… There’s no such thing as “too many” light sabers.

 (Click on the pic to enlarge)

While I celebrated Seth’s first day back at school by putting away Christmas decorations and reading blogs the boy’s brain was hard at work. Apparently his brain got NO “exercise” while on Christmas vacation and that first day back was a rough one. The little man fell asleep in a shopping cart at the grocery store. (He used my purse as a pillow.)

 I would have gladly forgone the trip but we were out of a whole slew of stuff. So I just got the essentials and tried to stack them around him. Hey, at least I tried to keep any corners away from his face.

(Note: This is what your grocery cart looks like when you have a husband who travels alot and only one child. Frozen din-dins for everyone! Oh and eggs and brownie mix too.)