November 17, 2005

just the normal dinner conversation

Wade: Ah, Charlie. He’s a riddle wrapped in an enigma wrapped in . . . something else.

Me: A conundrum.

Charlie: No, in Playdough!

November 16, 2005

is it possible to mail-order some peace and quiet?

I love Charlie, I really do. From the very first moment of his little life, he has been my easy baby. He slept through the night at two months; he has always slept in his own bed; he has always taken a good nap. But recently–not so much.

We are people of routine (which is good, as the first thing parents are told about ADHD kids is ‘Routine is so important!’ I heard that when Henry was diagnosed and I thought, well crap, I don’t know how much more routine we can work into our routine, but we’ll try!). Wade and I both function better when the day follows a predictable pattern, and we realized very early on that we would be better parents if we had a good routine for the boys. We are also people who need both sleep and personal time–two things that go out the window when the baby comes home. But we have worked hard over the past five years to establish useful routines for eating and bathing and sleeping, and until now, it has all worked well.

For the last while, our evenings have gone like this: we eat, usually all together. I clean up the kitchen while Wade has some Daddy Time with the boys. He plays with them, supervises their bath, and then reads to them for a while. We take turns snuggling with each child (the boys have separate rooms, for so many reasons). And then! SLEEP! And adult conversation! And the occasional nookie. Or television, whatever seems sexier. Recently, though, Charlie has decided that this whole bedtime thing just isn’t working for him and that he should spend the 45 minutes after we tuck him in repeatedly getting out of bed and wandering around the house because clearly he is not ready to sleep–which is annoying, to say the least, as he has been seriously disrupting my trash TV watching (really, you are compelled to turn anything on MTV off when your three-year-old comes in the room, don’t you think?)

There are a number of issues here. First is the Daddy Time. Despite my suggestions/warnings/demands that this be a QUIET playtime (as it comes both right before bed and at the end of Henry’s long napless day, when he is the most on edge), Wade likes to play Dragon Hunter and Hide and Seek and Hallway Bowling with the boys. And yes, I do appreciate his enthusiasm and energy, but by 6:30 on any given weeknight, I’ve had it with the running and yelling and crashing into things. And the crying–don’t even get me started on the crying.

Then there is the bath. After a rousing game of Jump Out and Yell BOO, Wade expects the boys to settle peacefully into the tub and NOT splash or throw toys or do anything. Which, as I try so very hard NOT to point out to him (every single night) is too much to expect from NORMAL kids, never mind OUR kids. And so the bath is wild and stressful and Henry nearly always hits his head on the spigot and Charlie cries about something and Wade ends up yelling and I need a drink.

Then there is the reading. Henry has been wanting to read the Harry Potter books, which we love, but they are a bit over Charlie’s head (too much plot, too many characters, too many big words, too few pictures of dinosaurus). So he spends Story Time jumping off Henry’s bed, which makes everyone mad.

We have, as you might imagine, made a few adjustments to the routine. I’m making no headway whatsoever with the Wild Daddy Games part of the evening, but I have been able to convince Wade that giving the boys their baths SEPARATELY is much less stressful. In fact, some nights I can even convince one of them to have a shower, which is the least stressful thing of all. We also realized, just a few days ago, that Charlie really needs his own Story Time, with books he likes and the full attention of one parent. And, despite the fact that most of this was indeed my idea, I feel compelled to say–it’s working like a charm (see? My son won’t go to bed, but I’m not a bad mother! I’m trying!).

Except for Charlie and the wandering around. He is less likely to wander if he has had a nice long snuggle before he is tucked in, but the real problem seems to be that he just isn’t tired, at least not at the same moment Henry is. By 7:30, Henry is done in, especially when he has been at school all day. And the medication seems to be wearing him out at the end of the day, too. Tonight he could barely keep his eyes open while we were reading. I tuck him in and typically I don’t hear from him until nearly 7:00 am.

Charlie, on the other hand, had a nap today, of maybe an hour, which was apparently enough to stoke him for some all-night preschool partying. At 8:00, when Henry was snoozing away, Charlie was jumping on his bed. Literally. In the dark, just jumping and bumping into the wall and laughing! My god how cute it would have been if I hadn’t wanted to sell him on eBay at that very moment. Because, you see, he’s supposed to be SLEEPING!

Of course, the jumping on the bed was better than the no less than eight times that he came pattering out of his room announcing, ‘Mommy, I need something.’ He doesn’t need anything, he just likes to say that (yes, I’m sure of that–when I say, as I typically do, ‘What do you need, Charlie?’ he always answers, ‘Ummm . . . something?’ Then he will pick up the nearest random object–tonight it was a blue marker–and say, ‘I need THIS!’ See what I mean? He doesn’t need anything). It drives me batty–doesn’t he know that this is my quiet time? My time with Daddy and the Sex and the City reruns on TBS? Go to bed, boy!

But now I’m thinking that the problem may be the nap. And that we may have to–gulp–give up the nap. Which may kill me.

The hour during the afternoon when the boys are ‘resting’ is the only thing standing between me and a padded room in Norman. It is often the only time during the day when someone is not talking to me. It is–quite literally–the only unstructured time I have during the work day. I cannot imagine how I will give it up without going insane. On the other hand, this bedtime thing leaves me completely stressed out at, well, bedtime, which is not good for a chronic insomniac like me. So I’m trying to see it as a trade-off.

The problem is that I need something, but I don’t know what. I wonder where Charlie gets that?

November 14, 2005

wouldn’t this make a cute Christmas card?

I’m entirely serious.

No, I have not lost my mind and installed a dungeon in my ranch house (although the temptation is strong). We took the boys to Turner Falls this weekend, which is a lovely state park about two hours south of Oklahoma City. Wade’s mother packed a fantastic picnic lunch and we hiked around and threw rocks in the water and talked about how Henry’s medicine is CLEARLY not the right dosage as he was running away down the river bank. Fun for all!

Henry’s absolute favorite part of the whole day was the ‘castle’, an actual CASTLE, built as a summer home (I think in the 1930’s) by a University of Oklahoma professor (Wade said, ‘Of COURSE it was built by a crazy professor!’). I don’t even know how to describe it–lots of small stone staircases and tiny rooms and of course, a ‘dungeon’. The boys loved it.

I somehow managed to fall down this staircase, which did seem very Jane Austen-ish, but still hurt like hell.*

When we finally tore the boys away from the castle and the river and the teepees (sorry, no pictures of the teepees), we went on to the Arbuckle Wilderness, which I’m sure you know better as ‘Oklahoma’s Premier Exotic Animal Theme Park.’ No, really! It’s one of those places where you drive through and the animals come right up to the car and you can feed them, if you don’t mind a little giraffe slobber on your hands. We saw yaks and zebras and llamas and tigers (in cages) and some cute deer and miniature donkeys.

As we were driving in, Wade and his parents were reminiscing about going to a similar park in Missouri when the kids were little. An ostrich put it’s head in the car and Wade’s sister practically decapitated it when she rolled up the window. ‘It nearly scared me to death!’ my mother-in-law remembered. Ha ha ha, we all laughed about that.

So we’re driving through the park with the windows open so we can feed the animals and here comes an ostrich. AND PUTS ITS HEAD THROUGH THE WINDOW, right where I’m sitting. First of all, birds scare the bejesus out of me, even little sweet ones (which an ostrich is NOT). Second, I have Charlie in my lap (yes, out of his booster seat–just let it go) and he is yelling, ‘Ostrich! Don’t eat me!’ Third, the car has automatic windows, so despite the fact that Wade is yelling ‘CLOSE THE WINDOW! CLOSE THE WINDOW!’ and I am pushing the button as hard as I can, the window is going up very slowly. Ha ha so not funny.

But it gets better! We get away from that ostrich and we’re tooling along, admiring some buffalo that have come right up next to the passenger side window, where Wade and Henry are sitting, when here comes ANOTHER ostrich sticking his head in my mother-in-law’s window. And, as she said before, it nearly scares her to death. But this time the rest of us are convulsed with laughter and no one is helping her. She’s yelling at my father-in-law, ‘Drive! DRIVE the car!’ But he’s just laughing. Hoo boy that was funny.

Doesn’t that sound like FUN? Holy hell.

But we did get to see some really beautiful animals right up close, which was pretty cool, and the boys had a huge time. We walked through the ‘petting zoo’ part of the park on the way out (although it was mostly empty, and the actual ‘petting’ animals were all goats, which scared the boys) and then Wade took the kids out to a little play area near the parking lot where there was a climber shaped like a train. They played for a while, and then we headed home.

About an hour later, Henry said, ‘Look at the boo boo on my finger!’ I took a cursory look but couldn’t see anything, and I told him I would look more carefully when we got home. As soon as we pulled in the driveway at Wade’s parents’ house, he said, ‘Look at my finger! I poked it on a nail when we were playing in the train!’ I looked at Wade and said, ‘Goddammit. Do you think he’ll need a tetanus shot?’ Wade said, ‘I don’t know–you call the triage line, and I’ll call Adam.’

‘Adam? Why?’ (Adam is Wade’s friend; he is also an attorney.)

‘To find out how we sue the Arbuckle Wilderness people.’ Gotta love that man.

But, no, Henry doesn’t need a tetanus shot (it was a little scrape and he had a DTaP this summer) and we’re not suing anyone, but I am sore and tired from all the hiking. And I really may use that picture of the boys in the jail as my Christmas card. And today I’m paying bills and doing laundry, and tomorrow I will tell you all about how I’m in training for Thanksgiving weekend.

*Of course you all remembered that Louisa Musgrove falls from a staircase very similar to this one at Lyme Regis, yes? She suffers a serious head injury while I just have a sore elbow and tailbone. Thank goodness.

November 11, 2005

in America, we can get most anything at the drive through

I am charmed by my lovely British and Canadian readers and their delightful unfamiliarity with the concept of the drive-through pharmacy. Think about it, really–this is America, where we’re too lazy–er, BUSY to actually GET OUT of the car for ANYTHING. Coffee, hamburgers, dry cleaning, banking, prescriptions, sex–when I lived in Ohio, we had drive-through liquor stores (are those still out there? Talk about a terrible TERRIBLE idea). But I will tell you this: the pharmacy drive-through is the greatest invention since the microwave and the vasectomy (both of which have seriously reduced my parenting stress). When Charlie was a baby and had ear infection after ear infection, I could pull up, drop his scrip, take a nice, nap-inducing drive around the lake, and then pick up the drugs, all without ever unloading him from the carset. Perfect.

But that’s not what you really want to hear about, is it? Today has been a day of small victories. Henry was initially not enthused about his new allergy medicine (in fact, he hid under his bed! ha ha), but we had a nice talk about how sometimes new things, especially new medicines, can be scary, because they might taste bad, but that this would taste like applesauce! ‘How do you know?’ he asked, skeptically. ‘Because I tried it last night!’ I lied (yes, I lied. We’ve all seen that episode of Desperate Housewives, we know what it would do to me). I offered to show him the pill, which got his interest. ‘It has little teeny beads in it!’ I told him. ‘Really?’ he said. And we were off.

I showed him the capsule, which is half clear and half blue; you can see the actual medicine through the clear side. I explained that he could either swallow the pill or I could put it in the sauce; he opted for sauce. So I get ready to break the capsule open–and I can’t do it. Ha ha! Because of course the damn thing is designed NOT to fall apart in your hand. I’m trying not to swear, Wade is trying to distract the boy, Charlie is trying to climb over the table to see the pill, and Henry is peacefully eating his oatmeal and ignoring all of us. But by now, I need a drink. Did I mention that it wasn’t even 7:00 am yet? Oh yes.

But, at last, I got the pill open and I mixed it up and ta da! Henry took it! Every bit! And then he ate an entire bowl of oatmeal and two waffles. And two glasses of milk. Sheesh.

I am trying not to leap to conclusions or expect too much, but I suspect we might need a slightly higher dose. His teacher said he did well today, particularly at the beginning of the morning, but that by the time I picked him up (at 11:30), it seemed to have worn off. And she was right–when we came home to rest, he had a HUGE meltdown about how he didn’t want to read stories and so I couldn’t read to Charlie either (at least I think that’s what he was saying–sometimes it’s hard to follow him, what with the crying and the interjection of completly irrational statements like, ‘If you read to Charlie, we will never grow up to be big boys! And our house will fall down! From the reading!’ Uh, yeah, whatever). But Mrs. M did say that it seemed to ‘take the edge off’ and she could see a difference, so we’re clearly on the right road.

To make my day even more fun, Charlie and I had a nice playdate with M and her son, who entertained himself with the bookstore train while Charlie insisted on lounging in my lap and showing me every single stuffed animal in the big display tower, thus successfully disrupting the only chance I have today for adult conversation. Oh well–I’ll take my victories where I can get them.

Now I’m just counting down to cocktail hour . . .

November 10, 2005

just to convince you that I am the one who REALLY needs the meds

On the way home from Charlie’s school (where he pooped in the potty! Hooray!), we zipped through the pharmacy drive-thru to pick up Henry’s new meds.* I had taken the precaution of calling Wade as I left the pediatrician’s office this morning, both to inform him of the Meds Plan and to get our story straight about what exactly we were putting in Henry’s applesauce and why exactly he was having applesauce for breakfast.** Our story is that we are adding a new allergy medicine, to help him stop sneezing. Yes, it’s a lie, but whatever. I’m a terrible mother, we all knew that.

So I pull into the pharmacy drive-thru and immediately realize that Henry will hear me ask for his prescription BY HIS NAME and will start asking questions. But I can’t get out of the line, so I just go for it. And sure enough, as SOON as I tell the tech why I am there, he pipes up: ‘What do I need a prescription for? I’m not sick.’

‘For your allergies!’ I say, trying to sound breezy (remember that Friends episode?).

‘Does it go in my juice?’ he asks warily.

‘Nope!’ I say, now sounding a little bit demented in my breezy cheer. ‘It will go in some applesauce. Won’t that be fun!’

‘I’m not going to take it,’ he says firmly. ‘I won’t like it.’

I’m scrambling for something breezy to say, all the while remembering the huge screaming tantrum he threw when we tried to introduce chewable vitamins, and the tech comes back to the window to ask me for my home address. And I draw a COMPLETE BLANK. I think and think as time ticks by and the tech stares at me out the window, holding Henry’s prescription in her hand. Finally I start to recite the street address of the first house we lived in in Albuquerque, a house my parents sold TWENTY TWO YEARS AGO. I know that’s the wrong address, so I open my wallet to look at my drivers’ license, because what else am I going to do, but I can’t read the street number, because the license is in crooked from when I took it out to give it to the first tech when I dropped the prescription off.*** Finally my brain clicks back on and I am able to tell the nice woman where I live, although she’s looking at me a little funny.

‘That will be $25.00,’ she says.****

And I reach out the window to put my debit card in the drawer and drop it on the ground and have to get out of the car IN THE DRIVE THRU LINE to pick it up. Ha ha ha! So very funny. And yet she still gave me the drugs.

Because it was clear that I needed them.

*Adderal EX, 5 milligrams per day. Watch this space for more details once we load the boy up with his drugs. Which will be tomorrow morning.

**It should come as no surprise that Henry does NOT like new medicine, of any sort. However, he happily takes a disgusting cocktail of orange juice, Claritin OTC, and Poly-Vi-Sol liquid vitamins EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. He will actually remind me if I forget to give it to him. Sadly, the Adderall cannot be mixed with anything but applesauce.

***Adderall is a ’scheduled’ drug, which translates to ‘pain in the ass to fill.’ Henry’s doctor can only prescribe a 30-day supply at one time, and I have to have a WRITTEN prescription each time (no phone refills). And I will have to show ID every time. But it’s worth it! Yes it is!

****That’s my co-pay. Actual cost, for a 30-day supply: $129.99. Yep. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY NINE DOLLARS AND NINTY NINE CENTS. Jesus Muffy.

November 9, 2005

apparently, I’m not muttering quietly enough

Charlie is getting dressed; I am making his bed. He is chattering away, and I’m not really listening. At all. But I hear what sounds like a question.

Me: I’m sorry, buddy, were you talking to me?

Charlie: No, Mommy, I was talking to myself.

Me (under my breath): Oh, good, that’s what I need, both of you talking to yourselves all the time.

Charlie: Yes. Yes we will be. (Resumes talking to himself.)

Okay, so I’ve been a little less than fun here the past few days, what with the stress and all, but today will be different! Witness the cutness that is Friday Playdate!

It was 80 degrees here the other day (I hate Oklahoma in the fall) so we went outside and rolled in the leaves, which was great fun (although now the bathtub is full of leaf bits, but whatever). Henry has taught Charlie to get on the swing by himself AND to ‘pump’ his arms and legs. Charlie was very proud of both of these things until he realized that this meant I would no longer have to stand in the dirt behind the swingset for hours on end pushing him; now he refuses to do it himself. Go figure.

Here he is throwing you his gang sign. It’s either a gang of three, or a gang of three-year-olds, I’m not sure which. Either way, Henry is in (and he can consult with Zoey if he needs any organizational tips).

Last night he insisted that I get completely into his bed, under the covers and everything, to read stories (which was dangerous as I am so very tired these days) and when we got to Snuggle Puppy, he sat up and sang the whole song for me. Then we turned off the lights and he put his little head on my shoulder and said, ‘Sing the puppy song, Mama.’ It was so cute.

Our evening ended with the boys yelling ‘Good night, brother!’ from their separate beds and laughing hysterically. Then they fell asleep at 7:45, and I followed at 8:30. The end.