AMomTwoBoys

My child has a speech delay.

A severe speech delay.

He’s hard to understand.

He doesn’t speak as well as he should at 31 months of age.

He doesn’t even speak as well as he should have at 24 months of age.

We have a long road ahead.

Many days, weeks and months of speech therapy.

Continuing therapy when he enters preschool.

To deny he has a problem is a disservice to him.

To brush it off as unimportant makes it seem like we can’t face his problems because it would somehow make him “less.”

To deny he has a problem is to tell him that we don’t think he’s wonderful even WITH a speech delay.

To deny he has a problem and not get him the help he needs would put him at a huge disadvantage later in life.

To deny that he has a speech delay is to deny a part of him.

My son has a speech delay.

That is his truth.

That is our truth.

We are not ashamed to admit it.

We are not ashamed of him.

Our child has a speech delay.

And we think he’s pretty awesome.

We still have three weeks (from tomorrow!!!) until we will hopefully* find out the sex of the baby.  I am not good at waiting and I spend a good portion of my time day dreaming about the outcome of the ultrasound.  Of course, I’ll pay close attention to the other parts of the scan, making sure the organs are developing appropriately, the heart is pumping as it should, placenta and umbilical cord are appropriately placed, brain is big and smart-like, etc.

But the part that’s the most fun, of course, is finding out the sex.  Penis? Vagina?  Penis? Vagina?  It’s such a toss up!

And until we know the sex, we aren’t bothering to discuss names.  Our girl name has been written in stone since before we ever had kids.  DJ picked it and loves it and I’m fine with it.  All that’s left to argue about is the spelling and a middle name.  The spelling argument I will win, and the middle name we’ve tentatively agreed on.  It’s kind of an awesome story and I’ll share it with you someday.

Boy names, for us, are harder.  We go back and forth, and back and forth over what names we like.  In an effort to save ourselves some frustration, we’re not even discussing them until we know we need a boy name.  At which point we’ve talked about opening up my comments section to some sort of name suggestion contest.  We’re that confuzzled on what to do.  But we’ll cross that bridge if/when we need to.

So we’ve been stuck calling the baby “the fetus.”  It has a sweet ring to it, doesn’t it?  Heather disapproved, and tried to give him/her “Joey” as a nickname.  Joey as in a baby kangaroo, with the added benefit that it wasn’t gender specific.  I feel like it IS a little too boy oriented, though.  I mean, I have a 75% chance of having another boy.  I don’t need any other weight thrown in that direction, if ya know what I’m saying.

That led me to consider “Roo,” as in Kanga and Roo from Winne the Pooh.  But before I could decide if I liked it or not, something happened and a nickname for the fetus kind of fell into my lap.

I was lucky enough to spend last Tuesday with Heather and Shauna.  We had a lovely lunch on a beach side patio and then we headed to downtown Santa Barbara for some shopping.  Hello, perfect day.

Anyway, as we were saying goodbye, Heather bent down and said something to the fetus.  And Shauna thought she called him/her “Nutella.”  I can’t remember what it was that Heather said, but it certainly wasn’t Nutella**.  I mean, WHO names an unborn child after a food product made primarily of hazelnuts, cocoa, sugar and oil?

ME, that’s who.

From now until his/her birth day, the fetus will now affectionately be known as “Nutella.”

*If Nutella plays coy and doesn’t show us his/her parts, I WILL NOT BE HAPPY.

**I don’t even eat Nutella, so don’t take this name thing as an endorsement of the product, m’kay? No nasty emails or comments about its nutritional shortfalls, please.

When we moved in with my in-laws I knew I’d be surrounded by more wildlife than I’ve been used to the past six years at our home.  We have birds.  An occasional opossum, lizards and…cats.  Squirrels were a rarity, and usually only at the park.  Raccoons, never.

Moving to a house in the foothills of a National Forest, you know that you’re going to see some stuff you’re not used to.  The other night I took the dog out back for a before bedtime pee and was nearly attacked by a massive raccoon.  And by nearly attacked, of course I mean it walked by me.  It was about 3 feet away.

A bobcat was spotted in the backyard a few weeks ago.  My Father-in-law feeds a flock (?) of quail that hang out in the backyard.  The frogs in the stream behind the house are deafening at night.  I’ve seen coyotes on the street at 11am before and we hear them howling and yipping on a regular basis at night.

So, I should not have been surprised when I was awakened from a deep sleep the other night to the sound of a gigantic pack (we estimated about 15 – 20) of coyotes howling and yipping RIGHT OUTSIDE THE HOUSE.  It had been an unseasonably warm night, so I’d left the bedroom window open.  And they were LOUD.  It was a little disconcerting, so I tried to just remind myself that we were safely inside and they were probably eating a rabid and menacing raccoon or rabbit or something.  It certainly wasn’t someone’s beloved cat or dog. Or, you know, someone.  Coyotes aren’t really known for eating people.

And then?  I heard Zach’s voice, as clear as day, outside my window.  My 2 1/2 year old was OUTSIDE at 11:30pm in the vicinity of a raucous group of deadly coyotes.

I LEAPT out of bed, flung open my bedroom door and literally barreled by way into the boy’s bedroom.

Where I found both of them sound asleep and safe in their beds.

It took about 30 full minutes for my heart to stop RACING and I’m pretty sure if I’d taken my blood pressure it would have been 193/107.  Or something equally insane.

They were fine.  They were not being eaten by coyotes.  They had not snuck out of the house in the middle of the night.  Which really wouldn’t happen anyway, since Zach won’t get out of his bed without yelling “mom!  mom!  mmmmooooommmmm!” a million times and Dylan would NEVER go outside by himself at night.  You know, picture taking space men and all.  And yes, he still talks about it.

I’m not entirely sure why I didn’t run OUTSIDE to save Zach instead of into his room to check to make sure he was there.  Hopefully it’s because some teeny, tiny portion of my brain is still a little bit sane and knew he wasn’t really outside being consumed as a midnight snack.

I guess anything is possible, right?  I think I need to break out my rabid dog beating stick again.  It’s going to be a long six months surrounded by all this nature.

Dylan,

Five years ago today you came into the world.  And our lives changed forever.

I honestly can not imagine what my days would be without you.

Even though you sometimes exasperate me beyond measure.

Okay, maybe it goes both ways.

Happy Birthday, Boo.

I love you with all my might.

xoxo

T-Ball started for Dylan.  It’s like, THE most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.

They practice twice a week for an hour and it’s HILARIOUS.  They run in all sorts of directions, they just watch the ball roll by them, they sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” while playing third base.  It’s like a variety comedy hour put on by a bunch of five year olds.

Their first game was Saturday.  At 8am. Dylan protested at the beginning, but after we started getting him into his uniform, he warmed up to the idea.  When he was all gussied up, he thought he was hot shit.

I can’t really blame him.  The game was fun.  They don’t count outs or keep score, so the kids just got to play and figure out what the hell was going on.  With a few bathroom breaks thrown in for good measure.

Zach has decided it’s time to try to use the potty.  Except, he only thinks to use the potty after he’s already done his business in his diaper.  We need to work on his timing.  I am determined to get him potty trained before I have another baby’s diapers to change.  A few months off would be nice.  Plus, he starts preschool (HOLY CRAP) in August, so we’ve really got to get him out of diapers before that.  I need to get myself motivated to really get on the ball.

We moved in with my in-laws a week and a half ago.  So far so good.  The boys are enjoying their new room and DJ and I are enjoying the non-commute.  I need to figure out my routine and the boys need to figure out a new sleep schedule.  This whole waking up at 6am when we don’t have to be up until at least 7 is starting to get old That will come eventually, I suppose.   Hopefully the time change next weekend will help with that.  I am really looking forward to the next few months as the weather improves and we can really enjoy our new surroundings.  There is SO much to do in Santa Barbara, I have a feeling we’ll be spending a lot of time outdoors.  Bring on the sunscreen!

I’m slowly starting to feel better.  Mornings are much improved, I even look forward to having a cup of coffee!  Hopefully my evenings will follow suit and I’ll start feeling better at night.  I’m really looking forward to enjoying food again.  Like, a lot.

My next OB appointment is on the 18th of this month.  And my anatomy scan is scheduled for Thursday, April 15th.  Dylan is going to come with us, which should be fun.  He loves looking at ultrasound pictures, so I think he’ll get a kick of seeing the baby live and on screen.  Plus, if it IS a girl, DJ will have another penis present to make him feel better.

I’m only half kidding.

There’s really not too much else to report.  I’ve been boring, which is why I haven’t really updated.  Hopefully my brain will reload soon so I can actually start posting again.  I know you’ll all be thrilled!