The Dreaded Dentist

Carter is TERRIFIED of doctor's and dentist's offices. To the point that reason, bribing and threatening are pointless. We're always reduced to physical restraint. Well, that works alright for a quick poke in the arm, or peek in the ear, but when he needs a full cleaning and x-rays? Um, no. Carter hasn't had a proper 6 month exam since he was born for this very reason, and I was not only worried about his teeth, but sick of paying for pointless appointments. After discussing the problem with our Pediatric Dentist, we came to the conclusion that sedation would be necessary if we wanted to accomplish anything. I liked the idea! In my mind's eye, I pictured Carter nodding peacefully off to sleep, while the dentist quickly got the job done, and later, him waking like a daisy to the sun, perfect teeth in tow. Needless to say, it didn't happen that way. We showed up first thing in the morning because Carter had to come in on an empty stomach. He was fine in the waiting room, playing with oversized blocks and moving the chairs around to wherever they didn't belong. Then they called us back. As soon as we passed through that door, Carter knew what was up. He clamped his hand over his mouth and started shaking and whimpering. The nurse took WAY to long to bring us the sedation medication, which he was to take orally from a syringe. Carter usually likes his medicine, so I was hopeful. Sure enough, he put the syringe in his mouth and got about half of it down. Then he noticed the nurse and I looking anxiously at him. He took the syringe out and sprayed the rest onto the blinds behind him! Ugh. The medicine is carefully measured, and if he doesn't get it all, he won't be sufficiently "out", and they can't give him anymore. AND it cost an extra $45. I nearly cried. The nurse said she'd get the doctor and see what to do. They decided to give him a little shot in the arm and see if that would be enough. Luckily, the half syringe of knock out juice he drank quieted him enough to take his shot without complaint. Then they took us to a private little room and told me the signs to look for when the sedation started working. Carter would be awake, but he would lose control of his body, he would get double vision, and his speech would slur. Then they closed the door and said they'd be back in about 20 minutes, giving the meds time to work. I was fine at first. Carter just got a little happy and stumbled a bit. But then his knees buckled and he fell into my lap. He started swinging his head from side to side as his vision went. He tried to talk, but only grunts came out. I held him and sang to him as his jaw fell open and he started to drool. I started to cry. Of course, this kind of sedation is totally safe, and he was reacting just the way he was supposed to, I guess I just wasn't ready for it. The dentist came in and scooped Carter into his arms. He carried him into the exam room while I was ushered into the waiting room. When it was time to go, I learned that everything went well and Carter's teeth were in good shape! They took me back to his room. He was laying in an oversized crib on his side, still drooling and moving strangely. We tried to wake him a little. He finally mumbled "Mom", "Carter", and "chicken" (for some odd reason), and they let us go home. Carter couldn't hold his head up, so I laid him on his side on the seat during the ride home. For the next several hours, he needed constant supervision. He couldn't hold his head up, and I had to hold him upright so he wouldn't swallow his tongue. I had to restrain him over and over as he tried to stand and walk, because he kept falling into things or falling on his face. He finally started acting like himself around 2:30 that afternoon. I was so relieved to have my little boy back! It made me appreciate those mothers who have children with disabilities where this type if thing is daily reality for them. We've got it pretty good! But next time, my husband Nate will be accompanying Carter to the dentist.

Dere's Da Bus!

Assert is out this week because the university's on spring break, so Carter gets to ride the bus TO AND FROM Riverside this week! He's a little bit excited. He starts waiting at the window at 10:30 (the bus doesn't come till 11:30), and with every car that passes he says, "Ope! Dere's da bus!" Cutie says it over and over again. Then, when the real bus finally arrives, he holds his breath and looks at me in excitement. My eyes get big as I look down at him and he waits for those magic words. "Guess what, Carter? THE BUS IS HERE!" And he giggles and jumps up and down as I try to put his back pack on. Then it's a race to the curb, and a smiling bus driver opens the door, always happy to see our adorable Carter, so excited for school!

It's a miracle!

BOOOO YAHAHAAAA!!! WOOT! WOOT! A miracle happened just now. Are you ready for this? You'd better sit down. I just folded TWO WHOLE batches of laundry, matching socks and everything, and my kids BEHAVED themselves!!! They didn't even come downstairs to bug me or ask for snacks or anything! In fact, when I came back upstairs, they were all sitting exactly as I had left them. Hmmm. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Yeah. Needless to say, I was a little suspicious. I mean, seriously, who has kids that good? So I looked over each child carefully for any sign of maltreatment. As of yet there were no bruises, scrapes, or even traces of tears. Alright, let's take a look at the kitchen. To my surprise there were no spills, no secret goody break-ins, nothing. Then I thought, "I've got 'em! I bet they were making messes in the bathroom!". Wouldn't you know it, all was tidy and ship-shape there as well! They hadn't even gotten out any more toys! Bewildered, I sat on the couch and stared at my children while reality set in. They had ACTUALLY been GOOD for 45 minutes or longer without supervision! My first thought was "I must shout my excitement from the top of someplace very high!", but then, technically, I shouldn't just take off for a mountain and leave the kids here. TECHNICALLY. So this'll have to do! All you parents out there, let me hear you say, "HALLELUJAH! It's possible!" Though, I'm not counting on it to ever happen again...

... and he sleeps

I lay my head on his chest. His little four year old chest. I listen to his heart beat. He coughs and I feel his tummy rise and his heart's rhythm accelerate. I look into his eyes and let him study my face. He points to each part and names it. "Nothe. Eyeth. Cheekth. Hair. Mouth." He touches my pimples. Plays with my hair. His hand is a car and my head is the track. "Vroom vroom". I pucker and he gives me a kiss. "I love you Carter." Big smile. I close my eyes and rest my head for a while. He holds me close with one arm, dallies in my hair with the other. I look at him again. His free arm is bouncing on his head, helping him to relax. I soak him in. His hair that won't lay down, the color of dry sand on a beach. I look close enough to see the soft invisible down growing on his cheeks. A soft blush there. Always. His eyelashes are SO long. Dark at the base, blonde at the tips, like mine. I love the curvature of his nose, just like a cabbage patch baby. I watch his lips pump in and out as he sucks his tongue. It soothes him. He moves my hand to where he wants it. On his forehead, on my cheek, on his chest. He keeps it there, holding it down, to remind me to put plenty of pressure on it. He covers our heads with the blanket for a moment, shielding us in homemade twilight. He looks beautiful in the twilight. He hungers for a gasp of light again and out we come. His breathing slows. I listen. Every once in a while his nose whistles and his mouth pops open. His hand slowly drops from his head and slides to his chest, resting on top of my hand, firmly and obediently in place. It takes longer for his tongue to stop. I lay with him, not daring to breathe. It is these moments that we wait for, we mothers. This is why we do what we do. I thank our Lord silently for his child. For letting me borrow his sweet little package of boundless love, perfect in spirit, wrapped in his own set of strings. Electric blue strings. Strings that somehow attached themselves to my heart before I knew they could. I thank Him for his trust in me. Because this gift is precious. I thank Him for this moment. For the quiet. For the chance. And then I draw my hand away, slip my arm out from beneath my boy, and he sleeps. Like a cherub, he sleeps.

Catching Up

I know, I know. He's just so FREAKING cute! This little boy brings us so much happiness. The other day he and Star were racing each other across the living room.  When they reached the end, Star would jump on Carter and lick his face over and over again.  He was giggling like a maniac! (Wish I had recorded that for you).  
He had a fantastic "Chris-Chris" and got Thomas the Tank Engine EVERYTHING! Every present he'd open, he's stop, break into a big grin and say, "Thomas!" He settled in with his face on the ground, watching the wheels of his trains move, eating his M&Ms and Skittles.  He was one happy camper.
He insists on wearing socks all the time now, whether he has shoes on or not. I'm not sure why that suddenly happened, but it makes him happy, and it's good for him anyway, right? Plus, it's really cute when he requests "thockth" with his little lisp.
He asks every day to go to school. I think he's having a hard time with the break.  Two weeks with no set schedule is a hard thing for our boy.  We do the best we can with a loose schedule at home.  Wake up, eat breakfast, get ready for the day, put on a movie, play, have lunch later, dinner, wrestling with daddy, bathtime and bed. It helps, but he longs for his regular, vigorous routine.  
Carter seems to be doing better at church lately.  He has an awesome teacher who has kids of her own with special needs.  He'll be changing teachers in January, and that has us scared.  We just never know how understanding and tolerant the new teacher will be.  It's a constant struggle to try to help him and those around him have a good, calm experience in a sacred place. We recently read an article in the latest edition of the Ensign that gave us hope.  A story about another family with an autistic 12 year old boy. Their ward embraced him, and we have hope that ours will do the same.  After all, anyone who's ever met Carter immediately falls in love with him.  Every teacher or aide he's ever had would take him home in a heartbeat.  But then again, those are an incredible bunch of folks. 
Well, there's a little catching up for you.  Here's to high hopes for the new year!

My Little Duck

 

My sister once referred being a mom to getting pecked to death by a duck. I now know what she means.
Every kid goes through a stage when, for some reason, saying "mom" just once to get your attention is horribly insufficient. In their little minds, it takes a whole barrage of "mom"s to get the job done properly, despite said mother's best efforts to respond to the very first "mom", and therefore avoid the rest of the dreaded onslaught.
Carter is currently stuck in this stage.
He has to say my name at LEAST 4 times before he can ask or tell me anything. I've tried a variety of tactics to somehow overthrow this annoying habit of his, all to no avail.
For instance, I've tried responding to each and every "mom" the same way, hoping he'd get tired of the monotonous response. "Mom?" Yes? "MOooom." Yes? "Mommy." Yes? Etc.
Then, I tried responding in a different way each time, hoping that somehow I'd hit the right response he was looking for, and he'd be satisfied.
"Mom?" Yes, honey? "MOooom!" What is it Carter? "Mommy?" I'm right here, babe. What's up? Etc.
I tried responding once and ignoring the rest. "Mom?" What? "Mom? Mommy? MOoooom!"
Then I tried mocking him. "Mom?" Carter? "Mommy?" Carter? Etc.
Then, I gave into my nerves and just shouted back at him, "WHAT?!"
*sigh* It's hopeless I'm afraid. I just pray he'll grow out of it before I snap.
Being pecked to death by a duck, indeed.

Love. Learn. Repeat.

Carter slid under the covers and up close to me. I was awoken with a few hard, snotty kisses on the mouth, followed by throaty giggles.  I turned over in the blankets and pulled him close.  I LOVE these little moments when he lets me in close to him.  When he holds still long enough to really revel in everything that he is.  To feel the weight, shape and warmth of his little body. Press my nose into his fuzzy hair.  Rest my cheek on his, and feel how smooth and innocent he is.  Take a deep breath and.... what is that SMELL?!  Yeah, I was definitely awake now.  But, holding on to the moment, I excused it as a dirty diaper that I would take care of later.  Carter let me snooze with him for a few more minutes.  Finally a small, "Mom...Mom, I. Want. Miwk. Pweese?"  And another snotty kiss.  I smiled and rolled us out onto the floor.  Into the kitchen.  "Thomas cup? Pweese?".  Thomas cup it is.  Half full and in his chubby little hands.  I head into the living room and commence the ritual gathering of diapering tools.  I call to him to "change pants", and in he comes.  Then I notice it.  He is COVERED in vomit.  Choking down the urge to further the damage, I gingerly peel his jammies off and change his not-poopy diaper.  Then I heave a knowing sigh and head upstairs.  Before I even reach the upper threshold, my eyes are tearing up from the smell.  Yup. There it is.  Gallons of the most deplorable goo known to man.  I don't know what I fed this kid, but... oh, just kidding, yes I do.  I can see a little bit of it there, and there... I throw every tainted object onto the bed, take up the corners, and, holding the bundle at arms length with my fingers pinching my nose, head down to the laundry room.  Even after the blankets are washed and I'm putting them into the dryer, I'm focusing on breathing shallow and swallowing hard.  Bits of all-too-recognizable gunk still cling to the sides of the washing machine as I start it again.   Sigh. Oh what a way to start the day.   But you know what? Those scarce little moments of closeness are SO worth the mess. We've discovered something with Carter.  A pattern, if you will, of how best to understand and deal with him.  As I reveal it to you, I want you to understand that we are in NO way perfect at this.  We freak out every now and then just like every normal parent. Our pattern is thus: Love. Learn.  Repeat. There are so many things about Carter we don't understand, and probably never will.  He's just wired differently.  Working on a whole different operating system.  The best we can hope to do is accept him anyway, and try to help him operate and function in the world around him. Picture if you will, a scenario: The whole family is quietly watching a movie an hour or so before bed, generally winding down and cozying up.  Carter suddenly charges into the room, hands over his ears, screaming like a maniac.  Taken off guard, we all just stare at him.  He heads over to the closest person to him, Logan, and begins pummeling him with his fists.  At this point, we intercede, and try to restrain Carter.  He reacts to this in a doubly violent manner, and even bites and kicks at those trying to stop him.   _ Ok, at this point, one of two things happens.  One, we take Carter up to his room and sit against the door while he takes his vengeance out on his own belongings, alone. Two, we love him.  Pick him up calmly, take him to a quiet place, and hug him tight.  Hold him for a minute with love, even if he fights it.  Then, we learn.  We question. We observe.  What was it that upset you, Carter? Was the movie too loud?  Was Logan playing with a toy that you wanted?  Are you in pain? Do you need to be in a quiet place for a while? Are you tired or hungry? etc. etc. Nine times out of ten, we are able to determine what caused his little world to become so disturbed.   We adjust the goings-on of the night, finding a routine that suits everyone, and we go on. Then, we repeat. Sometimes we don't need to repeat the process until sometime the next day.  Sometimes we repeat the process every few minutes.  But EVERY time, we learn.  And every time we take the time to stick to the pattern, we grow with LOVE too. Carter isn't an "easy" boy, but he is definitely a "worth it" boy.  We love him so much.  And every day, we Love. Learn. Repeat.