Straight From the Bottle

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  • An Update on the Huge Head Incident of '09

     

    I just realized I have yet to divulge the information gathered at Fable's "head-check" last week during which she was weighed, measured and re-measured my make sure she didn't need further tests for having an abnormally large head. It turns out that because her length and weight were equally as off the charts as her head size she was well-proportioned and no cause for concern, which "duh" of course she was but it left me wondering what would have happened if it wasn't? Tests? Cat-scans? Helmets? Me being worried for (most likely) no reason?

     

    Drooling Closet Day 8

    Fable Luella: 8 months and 23 pounds of pure gorgeous perfection.

     

    The various charts and graphs and "this is normal" vs. "this is abnormal" make me feel poopy in the tummy. Anxious. Annoyed. Uncomfortable. Worried. Even angry. I realize the importance of taking measurements and weighing our babies but the whole "off the charts," "below average," "you should worry because your child is too small or too big or too this or too that etc" can be enough to give a parent a complex for life. 

     

    With Archer it had little to do with physical attributes (he was always tall but never off the charts). He was a late bloomer from the get. Crawling at 13 months and walking at 17 months, which was "slightly worrisome" to the pediatrician. It wasn't until we went in for his two-year-check-up that our doctor handed us red flags and told us to start waving them. He wasn't talking yet. Not even a little bit. He was late. He needed help. It was time to have him tested. So we did. Specialists and therapists and early interventionists OH MY! 

     

    Archer was fine, of course. He was just late to talk. Late to walk. Late to everything. He was a late bloomer who blossomed beautifully on his own in due time and yet two of his four years of life were spent under the eyes and ears of doctors and family members who "worried" about him...

     

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  • Throwing Speech Therapy Out With...

     

    Last week we decided to pull Archer out of speech therapy, mainly because in the last six-months of speech therapy, no one has done their job well. We went through four therapists all of whom flaked on us half the time. I haven't decided who I want to blame. Regional Center or the therapists themselves. At first we had the speech therapists coming to us. But like I said before, only a fraction of the time did the therapist actually show. Traffic was always sooooo bad. Maybe next week! 

     

    Because of our issues with flaky at-home therapists we decided to go into an actual office once a week but the flakiness continued. Several times not even an hour before our appointment, I was called and canceled on. And when we weren't (canceled on) the therapists seemed to have no idea what they were doing.

     

    Little Dictator

    Archer es muy frustrado. Tu Mama tambien. 

     

    "How's he doing?" I asked after our last session.

     

    The therapist just shrugged and giggled. "He's doing fine," she said.

     

    Uh... and? 

     

    Ironically, our speech therapists seemed unable to articulate what was going on with Archer's progress. No "he's getting stronger ever week!" or "Sorry, sister. Outlook not good." Just smiles and shrugs and "see you next week!" 

     

    Honestly, I really wanted to be open to speech therapy. Lordy knows Archer needed it. He still needs it. He's making progress of course but still has major speech-issues. He's about a year-and-a-half behind, we think, which is cool, but help is surely necessary at this point.

     

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  • He Can Read! Music!

    No, really. My kid may be a few years behind as far as speech is concerned but who needs words when you have music? Archer's taken to sitting down with Hal's music books and just... reading. Humming along as he goes. Ch-check it:

     

     

    Okay, okay, so he isn't *really* reading the music. But it's still cute and makes me wonder what age music lessons are most common. Hal and I both played piano as children. I guess it's probably way too early (Archer turns 3 end of May) but the kid has been interested in music since the beginning. In fact, he can speak almost perfectly when in song. (If life was a musical, there's a good chance Archer wouldn't be so slow to the language scene.)

     

     

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  • Early Intervention: An (Annoyed) Update

    haven't really posted since my rainbowy gumdrop post two months ago when I praised our speech therapist and wrote about how much we all loved her and wanted to marry her and blah-blah. And I meant it. She was really great. When she showed up. It seems that, although Early Intervention was eager to "intervene" and send all kinds of specialists our way at first, they sort of half-assed the follow-up situation. Our speech therapist showed up about 25% of the time, calling in an hour after we expected her with all kinds of excuses why she couldn't make it. And that was just the first month. It's been three weeks since we had any communication with our therapist at all. Uh... Hello? Earth to speech therapist! Come in speech therapist.

     

    Swing

     Waiting for Godot, er, Go Dog Go, a favorite read/activity with our MIA Speech Therapist

     

    Fortunately Archer has been talking quite a bit on his own so although he doesn't really *need* a speech therapist, I do think it would be helpful to have somebody working with him besides Hal and I. I guess it's kind of like wanting what I can't have. When therapy was thrust upon us forcefully I wanted nothing to do with it but now that we've been totally brushed-off and ignored by the system I'm kind of pissed. And a little bit psycho ex-girlfriend with the whole situation: What's wrong with us? Are we not good enough for you? Why don't you call? Why don't you like us? WE LOOOOVE YOU. Wah-sniff!

     

     

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  • On the First Day of Speech Therapy, Archer's Speech Therapist Gave to Me...

     

    It's pretty amazing how long it took to finally get a speech therapist over here. Early Intervention may have been quick to throw assessors our way, but it's taken almost four months to get started with speech therapy. Four months, a thousand phone calls and one accidental appointment for physical therapy.

     

    "But we're here for speech therapy."

     

    "No, you're not."

     

    "Um... yes we are?"

     

    Anyway, moving on...

     

    Curious in Alligator Boots

     

    Today was the day-- the moment of truth. I cleaned the house, watched the clock and finally waited like a dog in the window, with Archer who's newly obsessed with waving at people, both real and invisible. We waited for her to appear, smiling, genuine, cool, exactly what our previous "assessment coordinators" were not. In short, she was lovely. A delight. I was happy to welcome her into our home.

     

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About the Blogger

rebecca woolf

Rebecca Woolf in LA

Who says becoming a mom means succumbing to laser tattoo removal and moving to the suburbs? This young writer and mother of two gives it to you Straight From the Bottle.

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