Penn State is my heart. That is what happens when you marry into the sort of alumni fandom that Steve displayed so proudly. He loved that school more than anything. So did I. I’ve probably spent more time in State College in the past 10 years than I have at my own college campus (which is 15 minutes away). I’ve attended football games, tailgated in sub-freezing temperatures, eaten ice cream at the creamery and posed for more pictures riding the Nittany lion than I can count. The view of Mt. Nittany from Loryn’s parent’s back deck is my most favorite view in the world. I hiked it in the heat of summer to scatter Steve’s ashes at the top, making sure they were overlooking Beaver Stadium. Its the wallpaper on my laptop and my phone. I’ve planned on both my girls to go to school there since before they were born.
My heart breaks more and more everyday as more stories are emerging on the kind of scandal that the Penn State community is just not used to.
The list of people who failed that child grows lengthier by the day. It goes all the way up. All the way to Joe Paterno.
In my house, Joe Paterno was held in higher regard than any other authority figure ever. If Delaney was a boy, her name was going to be Joseph Patrick so that we could use the nickname ‘JoePa’. Steve tried talking me into Josephine Patricia when the ultrasound said ‘girl’ but I vetoed. He was our hero.
I don’t think I can forgive him for the decisions he made and the lack of action he took.
When confronted with the kind of information he was trusted with, he had one responsibility. It wasn’t to the coaching staff or football players. It wasn’t to the alumni or the board of trustees. It was to that child. And he failed. Epically, hugely failed. By not going to the police, he also failed all the children who came after that child. And there were more. While Joe Paterno cannot be held responsible for the actions of those who work under him, he can be held responsible for making the choice to essentially look the other way by passing the buck off to the general manager and then claiming he did his job by informing someone. That someone who then made the decision to also not call the police and to just tell Jerry Sandusky to please stop bringing young boys by the locker room, mmkay?
Hell help you, Mr. Sandusky, had you been found assaulting a 10 year old boy in the locker room by me (or 99% of other parents for that matter). The police would have been called only after you were beaten with whatever large, blunt object was accessible. For anyone presenting the point, ‘well its hard to say what anyone would do in that situation’ are you kidding me? We’re not talking about finding out your boss was involved in some wiretapping scandal or that your accountant was embezzling money from his clients.
We’re talking about finding a grown man assaulting a child in a university locker room.
If you don’t know that the right thing to do in that situation is to at the VERY LEAST call the goddamn police and maybe hey, stop that guy, I have no words for you. This is at the very core of knowing the difference between right and wrong. And so many people in a position of power did not do what was right. Whether this is ‘illegal’ or not, I have no idea. I just know how wrong it is. And my moral compass doesn’t necessarily point in the same direction as a lot of people. So that’s saying something.
The issue here isn’t how sad it is that the reputation of a world class football program with more integrity than most has irreparably damaged. Its that so many people chose to look the other way when a child was being harmed. That’s the real tragedy. That’s the kind of damage that lasts forever.
We are.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
I'm probably totally not qualified for choosing my child's daycare but you can't contract that responsibility out yet
Picking childcare has to be in the top five hardest things that most parents go though. I include picking a preschool or mothers day out program in this bucket. Being the one responsible for the environment your child will spend 9 hours (or more) a day in is tough. Really tough. The only thing tougher would be not having a choice at all. If you were really limited in terms of location or cost, that would definitely be worse. I’m VERY lucky in that Stephen and I are fairly flexible. Neither of us have to be sitting at our desks at either 8am or 6pm. We don’t live really far away from our offices. We’re fortunate that we can afford ‘good’ daycare and not the non-licensed semi-crazy lady by the airport. You get the idea. That said, its still a really tough choice and after you wade through state requirements and monitoring inspection reports/violations (some are serious, some are kinda dumb) you have to use your judgement. Clearly I’m not going to choose anywhere that has been shut down by the state or who has a history of hiring sex offenders. Once a decent report card has been established, you move on to subjective matters such as ‘is it relatively clean for a daycare? and ‘does the staff look like they beat children when the parents aren’t around?’ or ‘is anyone taped to a chair?’ ‘do they use macs or PCs in their computer lab?’, etc. Although seriously, if the little boogers have a COMPUTER lab, they could probably do worse.
Not every place is a fit for every family. We didn’t have a spectacular experience at the first daycare center the girls went to, but I wouldn’t go as far as to say it was awful or you would be better off leaving your kids in a prison daycare than there. It just wasn’t the right fit for us. No harm, no bad-mouthing (in public anyway). You move on and find something else.
We were in LOVE with the at-home daycare we moved to next from the first day. The girls thrived there beyond all my hopes and expectations. I’d have no problem keeping Alby there until kindergarten, but since we’re moving I just can’t have her in the car over 2 hours a day just to avoid researching new daycares. That’s just not a long term solution. She’s only 2. She’ll be in daycare awhile. So onward I went to the internet to find a list of places to choose from. Texas department of family and protective services has a list of all registered/licensed daycares in the state. Its a good starting point. I made my list of acceptable locations and began touring. Well, I almost began touring.
A chance conversation with a coworker led to some information regarding the first school on my list that made me immediately cancel my scheduled tour. 1 down 2 to go.
Toured school number 2. I liked it. I wasn’t blown away, but I definitely liked it. It had been awhile since I was at a daycare center and had to remind myself that however they market themselves, a “private preschool” who watches children from 6am-6pm is a daycare. Sorry people. Facts are facts. As far as daycares went, this was a good one. Tons of stuff for kids to do. Sweet looking staff. A couple of male teachers (always kind of surprising) mildly rough-housing with some of the older boys in the gym. It made me smile.
Toured school 3. The one with accredited teachers and the fanciest street address of them all. Wood floors. Seriously. That’s as fancy as daycare gets. Crazy nice playground that was fully shaded and their own garden. White House-tight security at the front door and vegan options on the lunch menu. Nice, non-violent looking staff. On paper this looks like a WINNER. There wasn’t anything ‘wrong’ with it at all. I know people who have their kids at this school and they are very happy with it. I REALLY hope no one gets offended by this.
Here is why I didn’t pick it.
It didnt even occur to me until later. I was trying to put into words to Stephen WHY I was leaning towards the other school while maintaining my “theres nothing wrong with this one, really there isn’t” stance. “The other school just felt more ‘something’ that this one didn’t.” “No, I can’t clarify what I mean by that.”
School number 3 was too quiet. Way too quiet. I realized later that I didn’t remember hearing a single kid laughing. We passed every room. I didn’t see a teacher holding a child in their lap. All the kids looked happy. No one was crying. But there was no NOISE. That may be a huge positive for some people. The place seemed calm and orderly and safe. I’m probably in the minority who wants to see some every day drama. At least one kid being comforted by their teacher who is essentially a stand-in for their mom. Maybe its because they do such a good job that the kids don’t NEED to be picked up. Maybe they have a ‘no picking up the children’ policy. I have no idea. My fault for not asking. Some kids need structure and an accredited spanish teacher. Call me if you do. I have the perfect school for you. Seriously, its super nice.
I just didn’t think it was the perfect school for Alby. She’s more 2 than 3. She’s sensitive and cautious. She’ll need a little more babying. She’s being separated from her sister for the first time in her entire life. She’s leaving her beloved Miss Shirley and all her friends. She’s moving from the only home she’s ever known and into a new house. All in the span of a couple weeks. Life is going to be a little tough on her for awhile. She needs all the hugs and kisses and tickles and giggles she can get. I’m not claiming she WOULDN’T get these things at school 3. I just had that mama feeling about school 2.
I’m not above admitting I’m wrong. If Alby starts chucking rocks at teachers like her sister did in their first daycare, I’ll move her ass up the street for some structure and wood floors and spanish lessons. In the meantime I hope some of those dudes working at daycare 2 give good airplane rides and know how to flip a child upside down without making them barf. If not, I'll have Stephen show them how.
Not every place is a fit for every family. We didn’t have a spectacular experience at the first daycare center the girls went to, but I wouldn’t go as far as to say it was awful or you would be better off leaving your kids in a prison daycare than there. It just wasn’t the right fit for us. No harm, no bad-mouthing (in public anyway). You move on and find something else.
We were in LOVE with the at-home daycare we moved to next from the first day. The girls thrived there beyond all my hopes and expectations. I’d have no problem keeping Alby there until kindergarten, but since we’re moving I just can’t have her in the car over 2 hours a day just to avoid researching new daycares. That’s just not a long term solution. She’s only 2. She’ll be in daycare awhile. So onward I went to the internet to find a list of places to choose from. Texas department of family and protective services has a list of all registered/licensed daycares in the state. Its a good starting point. I made my list of acceptable locations and began touring. Well, I almost began touring.
A chance conversation with a coworker led to some information regarding the first school on my list that made me immediately cancel my scheduled tour. 1 down 2 to go.
Toured school number 2. I liked it. I wasn’t blown away, but I definitely liked it. It had been awhile since I was at a daycare center and had to remind myself that however they market themselves, a “private preschool” who watches children from 6am-6pm is a daycare. Sorry people. Facts are facts. As far as daycares went, this was a good one. Tons of stuff for kids to do. Sweet looking staff. A couple of male teachers (always kind of surprising) mildly rough-housing with some of the older boys in the gym. It made me smile.
Toured school 3. The one with accredited teachers and the fanciest street address of them all. Wood floors. Seriously. That’s as fancy as daycare gets. Crazy nice playground that was fully shaded and their own garden. White House-tight security at the front door and vegan options on the lunch menu. Nice, non-violent looking staff. On paper this looks like a WINNER. There wasn’t anything ‘wrong’ with it at all. I know people who have their kids at this school and they are very happy with it. I REALLY hope no one gets offended by this.
Here is why I didn’t pick it.
It didnt even occur to me until later. I was trying to put into words to Stephen WHY I was leaning towards the other school while maintaining my “theres nothing wrong with this one, really there isn’t” stance. “The other school just felt more ‘something’ that this one didn’t.” “No, I can’t clarify what I mean by that.”
School number 3 was too quiet. Way too quiet. I realized later that I didn’t remember hearing a single kid laughing. We passed every room. I didn’t see a teacher holding a child in their lap. All the kids looked happy. No one was crying. But there was no NOISE. That may be a huge positive for some people. The place seemed calm and orderly and safe. I’m probably in the minority who wants to see some every day drama. At least one kid being comforted by their teacher who is essentially a stand-in for their mom. Maybe its because they do such a good job that the kids don’t NEED to be picked up. Maybe they have a ‘no picking up the children’ policy. I have no idea. My fault for not asking. Some kids need structure and an accredited spanish teacher. Call me if you do. I have the perfect school for you. Seriously, its super nice.
I just didn’t think it was the perfect school for Alby. She’s more 2 than 3. She’s sensitive and cautious. She’ll need a little more babying. She’s being separated from her sister for the first time in her entire life. She’s leaving her beloved Miss Shirley and all her friends. She’s moving from the only home she’s ever known and into a new house. All in the span of a couple weeks. Life is going to be a little tough on her for awhile. She needs all the hugs and kisses and tickles and giggles she can get. I’m not claiming she WOULDN’T get these things at school 3. I just had that mama feeling about school 2.
I’m not above admitting I’m wrong. If Alby starts chucking rocks at teachers like her sister did in their first daycare, I’ll move her ass up the street for some structure and wood floors and spanish lessons. In the meantime I hope some of those dudes working at daycare 2 give good airplane rides and know how to flip a child upside down without making them barf. If not, I'll have Stephen show them how.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
I am so very, very, very lucky
All my test results were negative. The tumor was benign. The nodules weren't even tumors they were something else that grows on your thyroid and are pretty common. Not a trace of cancer anywhere. Glad we got rid of the whole freakin thing though.
Everything went as well as it possibly could have. No infection. No post-surgery complications other than a bad allergic reaction to something they put on my neck during surgery. My entire neck is red, swollen, crusty and just generally hideous looking. If this is what a 'no cancer' diagnosis looks like, bring it. I'll love my leprosy ridden neck from now til the day I die. People can just deal. :)
The hope, of course, is that the reaction will subside and in a few weeks it will look normal. Til then, I'll put a big bandage on it in public to keep from scaring the masses with what I'm sure appears to be a raging case of flesh eating bacteria. It doesn't even itch that bad.
I started the synthroid this morning. Just in time too. I spent yesterday crying and feeling stabby. I knew it was from having my thyroid out without having replaced its function with the drugs. It still felt awful though. Today I feel fine. There's no way that one morning of synthroid medicine is all it takes to get me back on an even keel but I swear I feel good. The coolest surprise was that the pills are $4 a month. Bad. Ass.
I'll still need a few more days to recover before I'm ready to rejoin society. I can't drive just yet and I have to be really careful with my incision since all the tape came off a few days early. I'm working on eating again since I don't really have my appetite back yet and the doc said the drugs could make me lose a little weight. I've got some amazing people taking care of me though, and all in all I feel fantastic.
Thank you to everyone for all the thoughts and warm wishes and good juju. It got me through the past week in one piece and I've never been so grateful. I don't know what I've done to deserve such wonderful people in my life, but seriously, thank you.
big squishy hugs.
KQ
Everything went as well as it possibly could have. No infection. No post-surgery complications other than a bad allergic reaction to something they put on my neck during surgery. My entire neck is red, swollen, crusty and just generally hideous looking. If this is what a 'no cancer' diagnosis looks like, bring it. I'll love my leprosy ridden neck from now til the day I die. People can just deal. :)
The hope, of course, is that the reaction will subside and in a few weeks it will look normal. Til then, I'll put a big bandage on it in public to keep from scaring the masses with what I'm sure appears to be a raging case of flesh eating bacteria. It doesn't even itch that bad.
I started the synthroid this morning. Just in time too. I spent yesterday crying and feeling stabby. I knew it was from having my thyroid out without having replaced its function with the drugs. It still felt awful though. Today I feel fine. There's no way that one morning of synthroid medicine is all it takes to get me back on an even keel but I swear I feel good. The coolest surprise was that the pills are $4 a month. Bad. Ass.
I'll still need a few more days to recover before I'm ready to rejoin society. I can't drive just yet and I have to be really careful with my incision since all the tape came off a few days early. I'm working on eating again since I don't really have my appetite back yet and the doc said the drugs could make me lose a little weight. I've got some amazing people taking care of me though, and all in all I feel fantastic.
Thank you to everyone for all the thoughts and warm wishes and good juju. It got me through the past week in one piece and I've never been so grateful. I don't know what I've done to deserve such wonderful people in my life, but seriously, thank you.
big squishy hugs.
KQ
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Hey cancer, fuck off and leave us Quinns alone already.
My turn.
The past few years of my life have been spent as an anxious spectator, being worried about people I love who are sick. Waiting on someone else’s test results has become a regular activity for me. I had a years worth of it with Steve and then the past few months with Alby. As of about a week ago, I’m coming at it from the other side. Now its my turn to make someone else worry. (sorry, Stephen)
A little over a week ago at my annual ob/gyn appt, my nurse practitioner was feeling my neck and said my thyroid was enlarged. She made the same observation last year but when we had 2 other doctors check it out, neither one of them thought it was enlarged. We let it go. Fast forward to 2011 and she feels it again. This time we decide we need to know what’s going on. I got sent next door for bloodwork and an ultrasound. A couple of days later I get the call from the doc that my thyroid is enlarged and has a large mass taking over the left side (read, tumor) and some smaller nodules on the right. I get referred to a surgeon for a biopsy to see what we’re dealing with.
The surgeon and I went over the ultrasound report and I quickly came to understand that just doing a fine needle biopsy wasn’t an option. This mass on the left side is almost 3 inches in diameter. Its bigger than the thyroid itself. I need surgery to remove the left half of my thyroid. After a few more discussions with another doc, its decided to remove the whole thing since one of the smaller nodules is only 1mm smaller than the size they would want to remove. In the interest of saving me from a second thyroid surgery, I’m totally onboard for them to take out not only my thyroid but anything else they find in there that doesn’t look like it belongs. This was Thursday the 23rd. They got me into surgery for the next day (ie the day before yesterday)
The best thing about having surprise surgery is that you don’t have time to worry about it. No time to panic. No time to fret over all the ‘what ifs’ of not only the surgery itself but whats going to happen after. I had barely enough time to pack a bag, eat one last good meal and buy antibacterial soap for my pre-surgery shower. I didn’t even have enough time to tell everyone what was going on, so I picked a few people i knew would get the word out and put them in charge of updating the masses. Plus after seeing the look on my boss’s face, i didn’t have the heart to tell anyone else face to face. He was a close second to how hard it was to tell Stephen. His eyes got all wet and blinky and I knew he was worried about ME not about any projects I was working on that he now had to find someone else to cover.
My surgery was 3 hours long. Everything went fine. I spent 24 hours in the hospital and then was sent home with a badass neck scar and even more badass pain meds. I was reminded yet again at how amazing my friends are. I got flowers and cookies and more ‘i love you’ text messages than I’ve gotten in years. They went a long way in aiding my recovery and anxiety. I know that no matter what the outcome of this is that I’ll be fine and I have no shortage of people to make me laugh or bring me ice water. :)
My parents are here taking care of the girls so that Stephen can take care of me. I’m trying to put myself back in his shoes (where I was for so long) so that he can worry a little less and sleep a little more. Its way easier being the sick person than the person worried about the sick person. I can’t tell you how good it feels to wake up from a drug induced nap,not quite sure where you are and to look over and see Stephen sitting in the chair next to my bed playing angry birds and smiling when he sees me open my eyes. I’d be in bad shape without him here. WITH him here, i feel like a million bucks.
My best friend Michelle sent out a note telling our friends to come up with a good neck scar story for me to tell people in the future. My friend Steve Lawrence had the best one. Here it is:
The flash of Darth Vader's lightsaber almost caught the fearless padawan off guard. Yet even so early in her Jedi training, she was able to strike back with precision and grace.
"Yoda would be proud", she thought. "The scar is but a small reminder - the Force is strong."
I found this fitting since we named my tumor admiral ackbar and I wore my star wars pajama pants the whole time in the hospital.
I’ll let everyone know what the test results are. Until then, man up. There are people out there who really deserve your worry and sympathy. I’m feeling fine. :) That’s not to say I’d turn down cupcakes or hugs. Its impossible to have enough of either.
In the meantime, check out my cool neck scar. I'm proud of it.
The past few years of my life have been spent as an anxious spectator, being worried about people I love who are sick. Waiting on someone else’s test results has become a regular activity for me. I had a years worth of it with Steve and then the past few months with Alby. As of about a week ago, I’m coming at it from the other side. Now its my turn to make someone else worry. (sorry, Stephen)
A little over a week ago at my annual ob/gyn appt, my nurse practitioner was feeling my neck and said my thyroid was enlarged. She made the same observation last year but when we had 2 other doctors check it out, neither one of them thought it was enlarged. We let it go. Fast forward to 2011 and she feels it again. This time we decide we need to know what’s going on. I got sent next door for bloodwork and an ultrasound. A couple of days later I get the call from the doc that my thyroid is enlarged and has a large mass taking over the left side (read, tumor) and some smaller nodules on the right. I get referred to a surgeon for a biopsy to see what we’re dealing with.
The surgeon and I went over the ultrasound report and I quickly came to understand that just doing a fine needle biopsy wasn’t an option. This mass on the left side is almost 3 inches in diameter. Its bigger than the thyroid itself. I need surgery to remove the left half of my thyroid. After a few more discussions with another doc, its decided to remove the whole thing since one of the smaller nodules is only 1mm smaller than the size they would want to remove. In the interest of saving me from a second thyroid surgery, I’m totally onboard for them to take out not only my thyroid but anything else they find in there that doesn’t look like it belongs. This was Thursday the 23rd. They got me into surgery for the next day (ie the day before yesterday)
The best thing about having surprise surgery is that you don’t have time to worry about it. No time to panic. No time to fret over all the ‘what ifs’ of not only the surgery itself but whats going to happen after. I had barely enough time to pack a bag, eat one last good meal and buy antibacterial soap for my pre-surgery shower. I didn’t even have enough time to tell everyone what was going on, so I picked a few people i knew would get the word out and put them in charge of updating the masses. Plus after seeing the look on my boss’s face, i didn’t have the heart to tell anyone else face to face. He was a close second to how hard it was to tell Stephen. His eyes got all wet and blinky and I knew he was worried about ME not about any projects I was working on that he now had to find someone else to cover.
My surgery was 3 hours long. Everything went fine. I spent 24 hours in the hospital and then was sent home with a badass neck scar and even more badass pain meds. I was reminded yet again at how amazing my friends are. I got flowers and cookies and more ‘i love you’ text messages than I’ve gotten in years. They went a long way in aiding my recovery and anxiety. I know that no matter what the outcome of this is that I’ll be fine and I have no shortage of people to make me laugh or bring me ice water. :)
My parents are here taking care of the girls so that Stephen can take care of me. I’m trying to put myself back in his shoes (where I was for so long) so that he can worry a little less and sleep a little more. Its way easier being the sick person than the person worried about the sick person. I can’t tell you how good it feels to wake up from a drug induced nap,not quite sure where you are and to look over and see Stephen sitting in the chair next to my bed playing angry birds and smiling when he sees me open my eyes. I’d be in bad shape without him here. WITH him here, i feel like a million bucks.
My best friend Michelle sent out a note telling our friends to come up with a good neck scar story for me to tell people in the future. My friend Steve Lawrence had the best one. Here it is:
The flash of Darth Vader's lightsaber almost caught the fearless padawan off guard. Yet even so early in her Jedi training, she was able to strike back with precision and grace.
"Yoda would be proud", she thought. "The scar is but a small reminder - the Force is strong."
I found this fitting since we named my tumor admiral ackbar and I wore my star wars pajama pants the whole time in the hospital.
I’ll let everyone know what the test results are. Until then, man up. There are people out there who really deserve your worry and sympathy. I’m feeling fine. :) That’s not to say I’d turn down cupcakes or hugs. Its impossible to have enough of either.
In the meantime, check out my cool neck scar. I'm proud of it.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
My Alby
Me: “Alby, where’s your belly???”
Smiling 2 year old pulls up t-shirt and puts hands on belly.
Alby: “belly bot!” (belly button, but duh, you figured that out) “mickey diaper!” “boo-boo kneeeeee!”
Hearing this conversation, you wouldn’t think she was that far behind. Until you really think about it and realize this is more of an 18 month old’s conversation not a 32 month old’s conversation.
Also if I told you it was probably the best understood conversation we have. More often than not, I don’t know what Alby is saying the first time she says it. Sometimes I figure it out. In fact, a lot of times I do. But it takes a lot of repeating, hand gestures, guessing, process of elimination and finally holding her up in the pantry and letting her grab whatever it is she wanted before I understand ‘affishackr’ = ‘goldfish crackers’. Then its a process of committing that to memory for the next time I hear ‘affishackr’
We started the formal process of really working with Alby to build/fix her vocabulary and sensory issues a little over a year ago. Its been a really great year. She’s come SO far. A year ago, she had 2 words. Mommy and Elmo. Now I’ve lost count. The problem is that a lot of the words aren’t technically correct. She still says ‘pup’ for ‘cup’ and ‘sock’ for ‘snack’. But that’s HER word for cup and HER word for snack, so it gets a pass as a vocab word. We’ll deal with the technicalities later. For now, she gets weekly therapy at daycare and is learning to not scream or cry when another toddler gets too close to her, or if she gets crumbs on her fingers.
When we hit the year mark we re-evaluated Alby and were sort of surprised at what we found. When all the results were plotted out on the neat little graphs, it showed that Alby had only progressed about 8 months in the past 12 months. This means that she’s technically more behind than she was a year ago. Now we know that tests aren’t everything. Especially tests on what a 2 year old (who does NOT want to participate) knows. All we can officially ‘result’ is what she’s willing to do for us. It didn’t really change any of our new goals for Alby. It was just a little discouraging. We did another round of hearing tests that didn’t fare much better. We know Alby isn’t deaf. Far from it. But according to the test results, she can’t hear. This is what happens when you have an unwilling test subject. The audiologist watched Alby for a little bit, asked a lot of questions and then recommended something that I was surprised I hadn’t heard before. He wanted to do a hearing test under sedation (an ABR) and while she was sedated, do an MRI and a CT scan to rule out any physical abnormalities with her inner ear or her brain.
Alby has a couple strikes against her. One is that she was a month early and her blood oxygen dropped so much after she was born that she turned purple and landed in the NICU for a couple days. While no one is claiming that she has brain damage, it is one of those smoking gun things they want to rule out. Alby’s second strike is, unfortunately, Steve. Steve’s cancer was very rare and very aggressive. It attacked some part of the nerve cells that grow on your brain and spine. I’ve learned that if you have a parent who dies of cancer, you get a huge red X on our own medical file that lands you in the category of ‘higher risk’ for developing cancer yourself.
Any of these things on their own don’t look TOO alarming. Maybe not even alarming enough to subject a 2 year old to general anesthesia and the bombardment of radiation that comes with an MRI and CT. But if you take a step back and look at the big picture of Alby...that’s when the decision to have these tests done gets a lot easier to make.
We head to the hospital at 9:30 Friday morning. They’ll put Alby under one time and perform all 3 scans throughout the day. Then they’ll wake her up, observe her for a bit and we’ll go home. The IV will be the most invasive part of the tests. On an adult, these would be no biggie but you can’t politely ask a 2 year old to lay completely still in an MRI tube for 20 minutes.
I’ve repeated this story a bunch of times to friends and coworkers. I’ve had a couple people ask me if I’m more freaked out than I’m letting on. This momentarily made me feel like a bad mom, but after thinking about it I feel justified in my relative calm.
We’ve been here before.
We’ve been through way worse than this before.
We can handle this.
My hope is that we’ll be told that everything is totally fine and we just need to keep up with her therapy and that eventually she’ll catch up and be in regular classes at school and go to Harvard and make us all proud. That her odd behavior is because she’s 2 and 2 year olds are weird, man. Or we could be told that Alby can’t hear everything we say because she’s missing this miniscule bone in her inner ear and this explains her speech delays, clumsiness and general frustration level.
Or we could be told that there is something devastatingly, medically wrong with our precious 2 year old who in our eyes is totally perfect just the way she is. I know better than anyone that NOT knowing is not going to make anything any better. Its not going to help me sleep at night. Its not going to help Alby learn the difference between what sound C makes and that cup doesn’t start with P. Its not going to do anyone any favors to remain in the dark.
So onward we go. Back to the world of hospitals and magnetic resonance imaging machines.
Hopefully for the last time.
I’ll keep everyone updated. My assumption is that we won’t find out much until sometime next week (results wise)
KQ
Smiling 2 year old pulls up t-shirt and puts hands on belly.
Alby: “belly bot!” (belly button, but duh, you figured that out) “mickey diaper!” “boo-boo kneeeeee!”
Hearing this conversation, you wouldn’t think she was that far behind. Until you really think about it and realize this is more of an 18 month old’s conversation not a 32 month old’s conversation.
Also if I told you it was probably the best understood conversation we have. More often than not, I don’t know what Alby is saying the first time she says it. Sometimes I figure it out. In fact, a lot of times I do. But it takes a lot of repeating, hand gestures, guessing, process of elimination and finally holding her up in the pantry and letting her grab whatever it is she wanted before I understand ‘affishackr’ = ‘goldfish crackers’. Then its a process of committing that to memory for the next time I hear ‘affishackr’
We started the formal process of really working with Alby to build/fix her vocabulary and sensory issues a little over a year ago. Its been a really great year. She’s come SO far. A year ago, she had 2 words. Mommy and Elmo. Now I’ve lost count. The problem is that a lot of the words aren’t technically correct. She still says ‘pup’ for ‘cup’ and ‘sock’ for ‘snack’. But that’s HER word for cup and HER word for snack, so it gets a pass as a vocab word. We’ll deal with the technicalities later. For now, she gets weekly therapy at daycare and is learning to not scream or cry when another toddler gets too close to her, or if she gets crumbs on her fingers.
When we hit the year mark we re-evaluated Alby and were sort of surprised at what we found. When all the results were plotted out on the neat little graphs, it showed that Alby had only progressed about 8 months in the past 12 months. This means that she’s technically more behind than she was a year ago. Now we know that tests aren’t everything. Especially tests on what a 2 year old (who does NOT want to participate) knows. All we can officially ‘result’ is what she’s willing to do for us. It didn’t really change any of our new goals for Alby. It was just a little discouraging. We did another round of hearing tests that didn’t fare much better. We know Alby isn’t deaf. Far from it. But according to the test results, she can’t hear. This is what happens when you have an unwilling test subject. The audiologist watched Alby for a little bit, asked a lot of questions and then recommended something that I was surprised I hadn’t heard before. He wanted to do a hearing test under sedation (an ABR) and while she was sedated, do an MRI and a CT scan to rule out any physical abnormalities with her inner ear or her brain.
Alby has a couple strikes against her. One is that she was a month early and her blood oxygen dropped so much after she was born that she turned purple and landed in the NICU for a couple days. While no one is claiming that she has brain damage, it is one of those smoking gun things they want to rule out. Alby’s second strike is, unfortunately, Steve. Steve’s cancer was very rare and very aggressive. It attacked some part of the nerve cells that grow on your brain and spine. I’ve learned that if you have a parent who dies of cancer, you get a huge red X on our own medical file that lands you in the category of ‘higher risk’ for developing cancer yourself.
Any of these things on their own don’t look TOO alarming. Maybe not even alarming enough to subject a 2 year old to general anesthesia and the bombardment of radiation that comes with an MRI and CT. But if you take a step back and look at the big picture of Alby...that’s when the decision to have these tests done gets a lot easier to make.
We head to the hospital at 9:30 Friday morning. They’ll put Alby under one time and perform all 3 scans throughout the day. Then they’ll wake her up, observe her for a bit and we’ll go home. The IV will be the most invasive part of the tests. On an adult, these would be no biggie but you can’t politely ask a 2 year old to lay completely still in an MRI tube for 20 minutes.
I’ve repeated this story a bunch of times to friends and coworkers. I’ve had a couple people ask me if I’m more freaked out than I’m letting on. This momentarily made me feel like a bad mom, but after thinking about it I feel justified in my relative calm.
We’ve been here before.
We’ve been through way worse than this before.
We can handle this.
My hope is that we’ll be told that everything is totally fine and we just need to keep up with her therapy and that eventually she’ll catch up and be in regular classes at school and go to Harvard and make us all proud. That her odd behavior is because she’s 2 and 2 year olds are weird, man. Or we could be told that Alby can’t hear everything we say because she’s missing this miniscule bone in her inner ear and this explains her speech delays, clumsiness and general frustration level.
Or we could be told that there is something devastatingly, medically wrong with our precious 2 year old who in our eyes is totally perfect just the way she is. I know better than anyone that NOT knowing is not going to make anything any better. Its not going to help me sleep at night. Its not going to help Alby learn the difference between what sound C makes and that cup doesn’t start with P. Its not going to do anyone any favors to remain in the dark.
So onward we go. Back to the world of hospitals and magnetic resonance imaging machines.
Hopefully for the last time.
I’ll keep everyone updated. My assumption is that we won’t find out much until sometime next week (results wise)
KQ
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Why Mother's Day Matters
Happy Mother's Day
365 days a year, Moms do this job relatively thanklessly. We feed, clothe, clean, listen, play, teach, mold, read to, and hug our little humans with little more thanks than kisses, hugs, smiles and giggles in return. We all knew it was a thankless job. I mean no one is in this for the money, right? The job is the most long-term of investments. The pay day coming many many many years in the future when your child is old enough and wise enough to realize all of the selfless years of mothering that went into creating a self-sufficient empathetic human being that is a contributing member of society. Usually this happens around the time they make little humans of their own and finally get all the work that went into being a mom.
A Mom’s job is really hard.
Think about all the other things you do without the instant gratification of knowing you did a good job and that your efforts didn’t go unappreciated. There’s not many. Even at work, I get told on a semi-regular basis that I’m a valued member of the ‘team’ and that people are more or less glad I’m around. I also get paid.
We mother for free.
Well not technically for free since there are the non-monetary payouts listed above. On paper it looks ludicrous. That someone would be willing to wipe a boogery nose or scrub playdoh out of the carpet day in and day out for little more than a smile and the feeling of tiny arms squeezed around your knees in return. (my kids are tiny so you may get more of a neck squeeze if your humans are bigger than mine).
Its mind boggling all the things moms are tasked with. Not just the BIG stuff. The epic responsibility that comes with being entrusted with this completely dependent little person who relies on you for everything from milk and diapers to learning how to be a good person that no one fantasizes about punching in the face. That’s BIG stuff. Then there’s the millions of little things.
Remembering to bring the goldfish crackers and fruit snacks on a 20 minute trip to Target.
Remembering to bring the blankie and the right sippy cup regardless of WHERE you’re going.
Remembering that a 4 year olds brain is not capable of remembering to use the potty before leaving the house without a reminder from you.
Remembering that your 2 year old likes to hide food in the seat of their ride-on mickey mouse airplane.
Remembering the sunscreen, and bug spray.
Remembering to do their laundry first so that the Elmo t-shirts and princess Tiana socks are clean every week while you make do with what clothing of yours you were able to shove in the washing machine.
Remembering the science project the day before its due.
Remembering to pack her cheerleading shoes and gym shorts on a Friday that you know she’ll need Monday when she’s spending the weekend at her Dad’s b/c you know that he wont remember.
Remembering to always have AA batteries in the house for the twilight turtle nightlight lest it go dark at 11pm while someone isn’t quite asleep and is still in need of said turtle.
Remembering to always interject a ‘what do you say?’ when your toddler asks for something for the first thousand times so that they finally catch on and remember to say ‘please’ for the next million.
Remembering to pay the mortgage, car note, health insurance, gas bill, electric bill, water bill, credit card bill, HOA dues, and pest control bill so that your human remains blissfully unaware of the complexities of real world responsibilities until they’re ready. Complexities like having you house repossessed or living somewhere crawling with spiders.
Remembering all the doctor, dentist, school appointments
Remembering all the food allergies of not only your kids but all your kids’ friends.
Remembering to spell out ‘f-u-c-k’ so that your toddler doesn’t repeat it in daycare, HEB, church, grandmas house, etc.
Remembering to keep the right cartoon character band-aids, breakfast cereal, underwear, and toothbrush in the house.
Looking at this VERY abbreviated list, I don’t think 1 day out of 365 to get a day off from having to be the one to remember these things is too much to ask. Some time off to nap, get a pedicure, read a book, regain misplaced sanity as a thank you for raising your spawn wouldn’t hurt either.
I am grateful to know an abundance of truly amazing Moms. I learn from them every day. I also do my best to be the kind of Mom my own Mama raised. I’m not sure if I do her proud or not. I hope so.
Be grateful for what the Mamas do. The world would collapse in on itself and die without them.
Don't forget about all the Dads, Grandmas, Grandpas, Aunts and Uncles who do the jobs of the Moms. This is their day too.
Don't forget about the single Moms who do the job of 2 parents either. They should also get a "Mother's Day". They miss out on enough. My friend David remembered me this morning and sent me a 'good morning, happy mothers day!' text. It got me through what would have otherwise been a pretty tough day.
good night, everyone and go hug your Moms!!!
365 days a year, Moms do this job relatively thanklessly. We feed, clothe, clean, listen, play, teach, mold, read to, and hug our little humans with little more thanks than kisses, hugs, smiles and giggles in return. We all knew it was a thankless job. I mean no one is in this for the money, right? The job is the most long-term of investments. The pay day coming many many many years in the future when your child is old enough and wise enough to realize all of the selfless years of mothering that went into creating a self-sufficient empathetic human being that is a contributing member of society. Usually this happens around the time they make little humans of their own and finally get all the work that went into being a mom.
A Mom’s job is really hard.
Think about all the other things you do without the instant gratification of knowing you did a good job and that your efforts didn’t go unappreciated. There’s not many. Even at work, I get told on a semi-regular basis that I’m a valued member of the ‘team’ and that people are more or less glad I’m around. I also get paid.
We mother for free.
Well not technically for free since there are the non-monetary payouts listed above. On paper it looks ludicrous. That someone would be willing to wipe a boogery nose or scrub playdoh out of the carpet day in and day out for little more than a smile and the feeling of tiny arms squeezed around your knees in return. (my kids are tiny so you may get more of a neck squeeze if your humans are bigger than mine).
Its mind boggling all the things moms are tasked with. Not just the BIG stuff. The epic responsibility that comes with being entrusted with this completely dependent little person who relies on you for everything from milk and diapers to learning how to be a good person that no one fantasizes about punching in the face. That’s BIG stuff. Then there’s the millions of little things.
Remembering to bring the goldfish crackers and fruit snacks on a 20 minute trip to Target.
Remembering to bring the blankie and the right sippy cup regardless of WHERE you’re going.
Remembering that a 4 year olds brain is not capable of remembering to use the potty before leaving the house without a reminder from you.
Remembering that your 2 year old likes to hide food in the seat of their ride-on mickey mouse airplane.
Remembering the sunscreen, and bug spray.
Remembering to do their laundry first so that the Elmo t-shirts and princess Tiana socks are clean every week while you make do with what clothing of yours you were able to shove in the washing machine.
Remembering the science project the day before its due.
Remembering to pack her cheerleading shoes and gym shorts on a Friday that you know she’ll need Monday when she’s spending the weekend at her Dad’s b/c you know that he wont remember.
Remembering to always have AA batteries in the house for the twilight turtle nightlight lest it go dark at 11pm while someone isn’t quite asleep and is still in need of said turtle.
Remembering to always interject a ‘what do you say?’ when your toddler asks for something for the first thousand times so that they finally catch on and remember to say ‘please’ for the next million.
Remembering to pay the mortgage, car note, health insurance, gas bill, electric bill, water bill, credit card bill, HOA dues, and pest control bill so that your human remains blissfully unaware of the complexities of real world responsibilities until they’re ready. Complexities like having you house repossessed or living somewhere crawling with spiders.
Remembering all the doctor, dentist, school appointments
Remembering all the food allergies of not only your kids but all your kids’ friends.
Remembering to spell out ‘f-u-c-k’ so that your toddler doesn’t repeat it in daycare, HEB, church, grandmas house, etc.
Remembering to keep the right cartoon character band-aids, breakfast cereal, underwear, and toothbrush in the house.
Looking at this VERY abbreviated list, I don’t think 1 day out of 365 to get a day off from having to be the one to remember these things is too much to ask. Some time off to nap, get a pedicure, read a book, regain misplaced sanity as a thank you for raising your spawn wouldn’t hurt either.
I am grateful to know an abundance of truly amazing Moms. I learn from them every day. I also do my best to be the kind of Mom my own Mama raised. I’m not sure if I do her proud or not. I hope so.
Be grateful for what the Mamas do. The world would collapse in on itself and die without them.
Don't forget about all the Dads, Grandmas, Grandpas, Aunts and Uncles who do the jobs of the Moms. This is their day too.
Don't forget about the single Moms who do the job of 2 parents either. They should also get a "Mother's Day". They miss out on enough. My friend David remembered me this morning and sent me a 'good morning, happy mothers day!' text. It got me through what would have otherwise been a pretty tough day.
good night, everyone and go hug your Moms!!!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Dear Kady
Dear Kady,
I’ve been thinking about you and your sweet Mama all week. Even though you’re the one going though surgery tomorrow, you and I both know that this is going to be waaaaay harder on your Mom than it is on you. You’ll go to sleep, wake up and wonder what the hell everyone is fussing over you for. My advice is to roll with it and maybe even milk it a little bit, kiddo. Before you know it, you’ll be back at home fending off your my little pony collection from your baby sister. I know she snags your stuff when your mom isn't looking. I was a little sister too. The next few days would be the time to ask for that new puppy or Tangled Fairy Princess Playset. Just don’t push it too far. Your parents are worried enough.
You are going to be fine. When you’re all grown up, you’ll look back with wonder and awe at what the best doctors in the country can fix on a tiny 5 year old’s brain. Its truly, truly awesome.
When you’re all better, I’m taking you and Krista and your Mama out for some fun girl time with your Austin counterparts, Delaney and Alby. Krista and Alby can negotiate strategies for getting you and Delaney in trouble for things you didn’t do and you and D can discuss the best ways to little sister-proof your bedrooms. I’m sure the conversation will turn to barbies and who is a better princess, Ariel or Belle and that’s cool too. We’ll paint our toenails and get pink ice cream and do other girlie things while the Dads get a break and go play golf or some other boring thing that boys do.
When you get a little bit older, I can’t wait to tell you stories about your Mom when she was a teenager. I have some good ones. I promise to remind her of the things we used to do when we were young when she’s “had it up to HERE with your teenage attitude young lady, and where do you think you’re going dressed like that??” Take heart in knowing that thanks to your Mom’s good genes, you’ll still get carded for R rated movies long after having kids of your own. Be nice to your less fortunate friends and don’t rub in your utterly flawless face too much. We should all be so lucky to be as beautiful and age-defying as the Daily girls. :)
SO many people are thinking about you and sending you good juju.
You get your tiny little butt all healed up fast! Don’t forget to hug your Mom. She loves you more than you can possibly imagine.
All my love,
Kathie
I’ve been thinking about you and your sweet Mama all week. Even though you’re the one going though surgery tomorrow, you and I both know that this is going to be waaaaay harder on your Mom than it is on you. You’ll go to sleep, wake up and wonder what the hell everyone is fussing over you for. My advice is to roll with it and maybe even milk it a little bit, kiddo. Before you know it, you’ll be back at home fending off your my little pony collection from your baby sister. I know she snags your stuff when your mom isn't looking. I was a little sister too. The next few days would be the time to ask for that new puppy or Tangled Fairy Princess Playset. Just don’t push it too far. Your parents are worried enough.
You are going to be fine. When you’re all grown up, you’ll look back with wonder and awe at what the best doctors in the country can fix on a tiny 5 year old’s brain. Its truly, truly awesome.
When you’re all better, I’m taking you and Krista and your Mama out for some fun girl time with your Austin counterparts, Delaney and Alby. Krista and Alby can negotiate strategies for getting you and Delaney in trouble for things you didn’t do and you and D can discuss the best ways to little sister-proof your bedrooms. I’m sure the conversation will turn to barbies and who is a better princess, Ariel or Belle and that’s cool too. We’ll paint our toenails and get pink ice cream and do other girlie things while the Dads get a break and go play golf or some other boring thing that boys do.
When you get a little bit older, I can’t wait to tell you stories about your Mom when she was a teenager. I have some good ones. I promise to remind her of the things we used to do when we were young when she’s “had it up to HERE with your teenage attitude young lady, and where do you think you’re going dressed like that??” Take heart in knowing that thanks to your Mom’s good genes, you’ll still get carded for R rated movies long after having kids of your own. Be nice to your less fortunate friends and don’t rub in your utterly flawless face too much. We should all be so lucky to be as beautiful and age-defying as the Daily girls. :)
SO many people are thinking about you and sending you good juju.
You get your tiny little butt all healed up fast! Don’t forget to hug your Mom. She loves you more than you can possibly imagine.
All my love,
Kathie
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