Self Indulgent Mommy Nostalgia

Bear's 3rd birthday made me predictably nostalgic for his baby days. Not the awful sleepless screaming tantrum pre-diagnosis bits, but definitely the helpless snuggly tiny human bits. It's just... I woke up one day a while back and my baby was gone. This charming little boy I'm still getting to know sleeps in his bed now.

A few short months before his diagnosis...



A couple of weeks ago...

Happy Birthday Baby Bear

Happy 3rd birthday to my beloved Bear.

Thank you for taking me on the ride of my life!

Love,
Mama

Big Boy Bedroom

It took seven months of planning and saving up and finding deals here and there and doing a little bit at a time.  But I managed to meet my goal of transforming the trying to adopt OMG I'M PREGNANT neutral nursery into a big boy bedroom with the Bear Stamp of Approval just in time for his birthday.

Before...

After...

For those who are curious, the framed photos are of...
- an antique steam train we saw at the railway museum
- a tractor he got to climb in when we visited his Great Grandpa's farm this summer
- a fire truck he got to climb in a the local Touch a Truck event
- his Grandpa's semi (used at his Great Grandpa's farm to haul grain)
- the life size Thomas from the Day Out With Thomas event this summer

Also for the record... the blindingly blue paint was Bear's choice.

Talkin Bye Bye

Today, for the first time ever in public, Bear said "bye bye" loud and clear, and waved enthusiastically as we left his OT group. 

Those therapists work hard on the kids' social skills, and they always sing the Goodbye Friends song at the end of each session.  And we always try to get him to say bye when we leave.  But social graces seem to be lost on him, and he's usually much too focused on running into the busy parking lot to say a proper goodbye.  Besides, with his processing issues he rarely registers that you prompted him to say goodbye before everyone's already gone.

It's just like Bear to wait until he may never get to see them again to have a major breakthrough.  He said it twice - once inside as we were leaving and then again outside, he yelled it at their door. 

As I was putting him in the van, he said "Mommy, I like talkin bye bye my friends."

I'd already been holding back tears all morning, trying to explain to him this is the last week that he gets to see his friends who bring toys and play with him in the mornings.  It was all I could do not to totally lose it right there in the darn parking lot.

At least we might get to see his group again.  Our insurance has been (reluctantly) allowing it (so far), and he still absolutely needs OT assistance.  So after we find out what the school district has to offer (or not), we'll start figuring out if we can get him back in the group that's done such amazing things for him.

The Photo Captions Itself

Yeah, I realize it's ridiculous that the Halloween Queen is two weeks late posting about anything Bear's trick or treating adventure.  It's a little something I like to call irony.

The Least I Can Do Is Care

I was gassing up my van when I noticed a homeless man on the corner in front of Dunkin Donuts.  It's not like Chicago, where people step over the invisible homeless half a dozen times a day.  It's a rarity in my small town, and impossible to ignore.

His ratty cardboard sign said "Help a veteran?"

I had just come from running errands.  I'd spent all my money (and then some), and the last little bit in my wallet was earmarked for getting  Bear's hair cut in preparation for his 3 year portraits.

See, the kiddie hair cut place doesn't take credit cards but I never carry cash and my stupid bank is inside the Meijer and doesn't have a drive through and it's such a pain to take Bear inside any store, even for just a minute (especially for just a minute!), so it's always been kind of a hassle to scrape together the $13 in actual cash money to get his hair cut. 

Are you familiar with Dooce? Hysterically funny writer. Award winning blogger. Personal idol of mine.  Once in a while when she vents about a problem and then - to clarify that she completely and totally gets that she lives a blessed life and her problems do not register in the real, tragic, brutal world - she ends with some variation on "I KNOW. First world problem."

So I say about this: I KNOW. First world problem.

I was pulling the last dollar out of my wallet to give him even before my internal voice could finish whining.  Because that's what you do for the homeless veteran on a street corner with winter approaching.

I opened my window and smiled at him as I handed over the measly dollar, knowing I was going to a warm house with a car full of groceries and ashamed I wasn't giving him more.

He looke me in the eye and said to me "Can you forgive me for begging?"

What do you say to that?

I said the only thing I could think of: God bless.

Which is admittedly a bizarre thing for an atheist to say to anyone.  But in the brief span of that insignificant moment I desperately wanted God to exist for this man's sake.

His reply was "He just did, with you."

I cried the whole drive home.



I can't stop the war, 
Shelter homeless, feed the poor 
I can't walk on water 
I can't save your sons and daughters 
I can't change the world and make things better 
The least that I can do is care