C's 3rd Birthday

Wow...it's been over a month and I'm just now getting around to posting about C's birthday. I know I said I wouldn't be posting again until we move, but I woke up at 5am and couldn't get back to sleep and I'm sure not packing any boxes right now.

Connor is one of those very blessed kids that gets three birthdays...as you'll see. He really got into his birthday this year, much more than he has any other year so far. (And actually he thinks another one should be coming soon and asks me about it several times a week.) I think I now have him convinced that Christmas will be really cool, too, because he keeps suggesting we should write a letter to Santa. Unfortunately, his letter right now would include a pickup truck he can drive so we're waiting it out to see if that phase passes. The other day we had his first "see the commercial and want the toy" moment...and I know there is only more yet to come.

This is his birthday with our DeLuca family. Elsie's birthday was just about a month after C's so she was pretty into it, too. She is so gorgeous you can hardly help from taking a picture.

This is at his Peterson family's house. My mom made some "Lightning A-queen pupcakes" for him. (A really cool cupcake post is coming soon....) He is just starting to get into Star Wars, and figuring out what is funny. When we asked him how old he was now, he said,"I'm a Jedi!". Awesome.
And this is from his birthday at home. (His last one at this house...sniff, sniff.)

While I will be the first to admit he gets a little spoiled sometimes, I would also be the first to tell you that he really has no idea about it. All he knows is that there a lots of people around him who love him a bunch. And we wouldn't have it any other way. Happy Birthday to my sweet baby boy, who's not a baby anymore.

Moving and Missing

Right now I'm sitting in our office, which is looking very bare. The closet is almost completely empty, and there is a tall empty bookcase sitting next to a very full box in need of taping. I suppose I should close it right now and get on to more packing, but I'm taking a break cause I deserve it. But I am sure this will probably be our last post until we get settled again.

It seems like we've been waiting forever to move...one offer/half offer after another has really led us to feel like it would never happen...and yet suddenly it's here. We'll be out of this house in a week. I feel sort of like I did when I was eight months pregnant...like I've been looking forward to something for so long that I hardly remember things not being the way they are now, but perched on the edge of the big change and suddenly wondering if I'm really ready.

We were in our little apartment when we first got married for about a year, but the other five + years of our marriage were spent here. Adam got his first real job here, we were pregnant here, we brought C home from the hospital to this house, and I remember many of the ups and downs of the last few years by where I was in the house when whatever it was happened. I feel like I should go through the house and take pictures of every room--just to remember it as it is, but I know I'd never really look at them.

And really, it's not just the house, but the whole community. I will admit...I won't miss the crazy teenagers running up and down the road, or the weird people that frequent the Shelbyville Walmart, or trying to make it down US 60 during Shelbyville's rush hour which is not caused by traffic but instead by people who all drive 40mph as their max speed. But we will miss the family five minutes away, the librarian and the awesome library program, our crazy "conspiracy theory" neighbor, the neighbor who thinks cigarettes are a fifth food group, the tractor stores and train overpass we go by on the way to just about anywhere that totally make C's day, the beautiful park with walking paths, a pool, a gym, and camping soooo close, and all the wonderful people at our church that have enriched our lives in countless ways.

Wow, if I'm not careful I might really talk my way out of this. But I guess when I really think it through I know that what makes all of this so great is people, not buildings. As my mom says, "People are more important than things." We will dearly miss all those who have influenced our lives for good over these past five years. And even if we have to leave this house behind, you can be sure we'll always keep those memories in our hearts.

What Dreams May Come

I should be doing MANY other things right now, but I thought I'd post this little bit to get it out of my head. The night before last, C woke up around 3 am and was talking in his bed. (He often wakes up at 5:30 am and is awake for the day, but 3 am was a little early.) I couldn't tell what he was saying in the monitor, so I went into his room to ask what was wrong. He said, "Did we flush my green tanker truck down the toilet?" That was it--bad dream. He's had bad dreams before, but never really had enough language to actually describe it. I assured him it was fine and we should go back to bed. He said he needed to go to the bathroom, so I took him in, and he repeatedly questioned me about the tanker truck, and was I the one who flushed him down the toilet. I tried to assure him his truck was still there and explain exactly what a dream was. He got quieter and went back to sleep, but never really seemed satisfied.
Later that day when we were at church, C leans over to me and whispers, "Are we not going to flush our trucks down the church potty?" While I tried really hard not to laugh, I told him we had no trucks with us and that I would never do that.
After sacrament meeting, I took him to the bathroom. While sitting on the toilet, he points to an almost-gone zit on my face and says, "Is that your owwie?" I said it was but it was almost gone. And he said,"Did you get that when you flushed my trucks down the toilet?" Poor boy. Usually I am slightly annoyed when he points out my occasional zits, but this time I just couldn't help but empathize.
Unfortunately, as adults, we are not immune to bad dreams. I was reading a magazine article about dreams the other day, and they perfectly described my reoccurring adult nightmare--I realize I am late for a final exam for a class I signed up for but forgot to ever attend. I did feel a little relieved that I am not alone in dreaming this because as far as adult nightmares go, this is apparently very popular.
The magazine says this indicates that I am a person to whom achievement is important and I have anxiety in my life....well, duh. I think any woman at my life stage is entitled to a bit of anxiety. After all, it certainly is possible that my son really flushed a toy down the toilet and it wasn't a bad dream at all and I think a little bit of anxiety about that is perfectly normal. But I do also believe our dreams reveal a little about us that we may not have known.
Adam sometimes teases me about all the crazy dreams I have, but sometimes I wonder just what it's all for. One day, I was painting a bookcase white, and I was standing over it moving the paintbrush up and down, and I realized I that had seen this exact picture before. But it was more than dejavu--I remembered where I had seen it before...it was in a dream I had weeks earlier before I ever decided to paint it.
Now please don't think I have any belief in psychic abilities because you won't convince me that painting a bookcase had any significance to anyone--even me. But I do know there are all kinds of things about our brains that science doesn't yet understand. It truly fascinates me, and sometimes I wonder if in another life I might be a neuroscientist and figure it all out.
Maybe I'll dream about that tonight.

The "Transition"

Since even before C's diagnosis, we have been a part of the First Steps program. It is our state's Early Childhood Intervention program, and provided us with PT and OT at home. I don't think I can explain in words how grateful I am for this program. To have trained professionals come to my home on a weekly basis to check on him, work with us, and assess his and our needs has been one of our greatest blessings. I feel like I am pretty observant and educated, and know my child very well, but they consistently noticed things that I did not. It has been so nice to be able to discuss all these life changes we have to make in the comfort of our own home, and I really truly feel like we have made some great friends.
But then C turned three. And at three, the government steps in and pretty much dumps you out on your own. We could put C in the special needs preschool at the local elementary school, but I'm not too thrilled with them, so we're keeping him at home one more year. If we did send him there, we would have had "transition" meetings and "arc" meetings and all sorts of meeting with the school system, but since we decided to wait a year on preschool we are just on our own.
I can say without shame there have been several times I have cried about this transition. First Steps was there to pretty much anticipate our needs and help us find whatever services and equipment were out there. And now we have to go it alone. I have spent the last month or two scrambling to find recommended therapists, who had space for C, and take our insurance. We also have to give back a lot of the equipment we've borrowed, so we're trying to get that replaced as well through insurance. I mean, some days I really can't see how my life was ever busy before I had all this to do.
And today we had our first visit with the new OT...and I am thrilled!!! It's about a 35 minute drive, but they have great equipment (including a disco ball--not sure why they need that, but it's awesome) and C actually gets to see a man now. I think it is going to be really good for him. The guy does all the same stuff as the other OTs, but from a man's perspective. Hard to explain, but very cool.
***And just as a side note, while we were at the new OT's office this guy came in who is a wheelchair rep we had originally contacted to try to get C the Permobil power chair we wanted. He told us that our insurance just wouldn't pay for that, and we had to get this other chair instead--that's all he showed us, one chair!! (That's like shopping for an SUV, and somebody showing you a Ford Escape and saying, "Yup, that's all there is.") So I see him walk in, and I look away but out of the corner of my eye I see him recognize me, and then look at C's wheelchair and just stare. I'm sure he noticed the big sticker with his competitor's name and number on the back of the chair as well. And I wanted to say, "Yeah, see that? That's cause I don't settle when it comes to my son!"...but instead I just sat there and for one brief moment felt like the best mom ever.***