A Real Nail Biter

Sometimes change creeps up on you so slowly you don't even notice it, but there's your kid, seemingly suddenly different.  And you know it's truly not sudden, that it has been evolving for some time, but you've missed it, even though it was going on right in front of your nose. 

That happened recently with Jacob.  I looked down at his hand the other day and noticed his nails were dirty.  Wait - what?  They were long enough to be dirty?  Jacob's nails?

Yep, long and dirty; and I had to double take.  Not because I knew I had cut them recently, but because I haven't seen them this long, haven't had to cut them for two or three years.  Ever.

Because Jacob, you see, is a nail biter.  He is a really bad, constant nail biter, down to the quick and sometimes beyond.

Make that "was."

Jacob loves to pet our cat.

And somehow whatever had propelled him towards nail biting in the past, presumably anxiety, has abated.  I am so happy about this, grateful even, and also somewhat sad that I hadn't noticed until now.

You think you are watching your kids so carefully, but some things just do slip through the cracks.  Especially with Jacob, who doesn't talk about the "why" of things.   We are often left guessing as to exactly what's going on.

Three years ago, we had never gotten an answer as to why he started biting his nails.  Never knew what was at the core of his unhappiness, that the biting of his nails helped with.  Also, at the time he hated having nails that stuck up at all, and biting certainly kept them super short all the time.  So it might have started as a sensory issue that then fulfilled an emotional need too.

Which is the cart, which is the horse?  Don't know, probably never will.

But now?  He's happy to have them growing, a little annoyed at me cutting them, but OK with it when distracted by TV.  Why?  What changed?  Good question.  We certainly don't know now, may never know.

Sometimes with Jacob detective work actually helps us to figure out what's going on.  Sometimes an answer appears weeks, months later, out of the blue.  Yet other times the mystery is just that, remaining mysterious, locked inside Jake's head; his inability to explain, a wall of silence.

Three years ago, shortly after Jacob transitioned from pre-school to elementary school, he had a backslide in his toileting habits.  Jake had toilet trained easily, when he was completely ready, at age four.  Really, one long Columbus Day weekend intensive and he was done.  Zero accidents, dry at night just weeks later, too.

But a few weeks into Kindergarten?  He was having poop accidents.

It appeared he was withholding and then when he couldn't hold it in any longer, it was coming out in skid marks.  And of course, once poop is withheld, it gets backed up, becomes hard, painful to release and a bad cycle has begun, difficult to break, especially with a child who cannot describe what is going on with him.

And we couldn't for the life of us figure out what was going wrong, what had set all this in motion.  That school was not his current wonderful school, communication was not a strong point with them. They were getting mad at me, thinking I had lied about him being thoroughly toilet trained.  I was starting to wonder if something really bad was happening to him in the bathroom at his school.  It was NOT good. 

About three months into this, I had taken Jake to the movies.  We were in the bathroom, he had pooped, and when I went to wipe him, he yelled "NO!"

And as I balled up the awful cheap movie theater t.p. in my hand I suddenly had an epiphany:

"Jake is this toilet paper scratchy and yucky, does it hurt your bottom?"

"YES! Hurts!"

"Is the toilet paper at school like this?"

"YES! Hurts!" 
 
Whew!  Mystery solved.  At home, we used soft, moist flushable wipes and our t.p. is the soft expensive kind, too.  I never would have figured this out except for that moment of serendipity.

Jacob, at eight is now able to communicate much more, often initiates conversations.  But still, mysteries abound.  Like the nail biting.  I am happy it is gone, but a small part of me would still love to know why?  Why?

But asking is going to get me nowhere.  Because about important things like this?  Conversations still often have a circular quality to them:

"Jacob, why are you crying? What's going on?"

"I'm crying because I'm sad Mommy."

"Yes, honey, I can see that. But why are you sad?"

"I'm sad because... I'm crying mommy."

"Oh, honey you are crying because you are sad.  But why are you sad, what is making you feel sad? Did something happen?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"What happened?"

"I'm sad, Mommy.  I'm crying, Mommy."

And on and on.  And I can't make suggestions, because anything I suggest he will agree to.  He would make a terrible criminal suspect, easily confessing to the most heinous of crimes, just to please his questioner, to be able to put forth an answer.

I discovered this the hard way a while ago when trying to get a sense of what had happened during a regular day at school.  I had asked:

"Did you do math, today?"

"Yes mommy I did math"

"Did you read?"

"Yes mommy I did reading."

"What did you read, Jakey?"

"I read a book, Mommy!"  OK, that's likely, and details are not his strong point.

But then to test if this was real information or just agreeableness, I threw in a ringer:

"Did you go to the moon, today, Jakey?"

"Yes Mommy, I went to the moon."

Damn!  Back to square one.

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The Conversationalist

Ethan, himself

The other night, Ethan was all wonderful and full of surprises.

Early in the evening we were looking for a book for him to read as he had finished “The Strange Case of the Origami Yoda” and was ready to move on.

We have about a thousand books in our apartment, but he tends to reject a lot of books out of hand, as either "boring" or "too scary to read at night."  So it is often tough to come up with something he is willing to read, if it’s not a Pokemon Adventure book, that is.

I spotted a book I had bought some time ago thinking it might be helpful to him, but he had shunned it for years. It’s a story written by a (then) 8 year old girl about her autistic brother, called “All About My Brother.”

I handed it to him with a casual “How about this one?" fully expecting scathing rejection. It had pictures and was written by a GIRL (cooties!) but he said "cool" and took it.  And readers, he read it!

And afterward he said "Mom, maybe we should write a book together about Jake."

You could have blown me over with a feather.  Lately his statements about Jacob usually begin with "Do you know why Jacob is the most annoying brother in the world, and why I hate him?"

I recovered quickly “Sure, Ethan I would really like that." And felt more than a little glowy for a while.

A little later that same evening, we had this conversation, out of the blue:

E: "Mom? Maybe I’ll get married in my 20’s"

Me: (not sure where this is coming from or leading to) "Umm, OK."

E: "My late 20’s."

Me: "Um, OK."

E: "Then I can have kids in my early 30’s and you’ll still be young enough to help take care of them."

Me: (oh, a plan) "…OK."

E: "Like when I’m 30 you’ll be (brow furrowed in mathly concentration)… 72.  That’s not too old, right?"

Me: "No, not at all."

E: "You’ll still be alive then right?  Promise?"
(Oh how I wish I could make that promise, but I’m a realist)

Me: "I would certainly hope so honey, I plan on it.  I want to be.  I really would love to be a Grandma to your kids.  But you know I can’t promise these kinds of things, right?"

E: "Yeah...  (pause)  Can I have a cookie?"

With all the Grandparents dying lately death must be on his mind.  I forget how with boys just because they're not talking about it doesn't mean it's not sitting there under the surface, hot lava bubbling away.

Later still, he started up a conversation again.

E: “Mom, what’s your favorite flower?”
(Ethan is all about the icebreaker question that comes out of nowhere.)

Me: "Well, I love all flowers so much, so I don’t have just one. But I do love hydrangeas, especially the blue-violet ones, you know that, I’m always pointing them out to you. And peonies, because they smell so lovely.  Also lilacs, definitely lilacs."

E: "How about carnations?"

Me: "They can be pretty, but they're not my favorite."

E: "I like carnations."

Me: "That's fine, we don't have to like the same things.  But Ethan, later on, when you're grown up and you like a girl?  Don't buy her carnations, they're cheap, you'll never impress her that way."
(I'm all full of useful, womanly advice)

E: "How about Daisies? Oh, wait, Daisy is a girl’s name."

Me: "That's true. There are lots of flower names that are girl’s names. Daisy... Lily... Rose... Iris... Heather... Violet..."

E: "Hey that’s a color!"

Me: "But also a flower."

E: "Did they name the color for the flower or the flower for the color?"

Me: "Good question. I would guess the flower was probably named for the color, but it could be the other way around."

E: "What about emerald?"

Me: "You mean the green color?  That's a color named for a gemstone, not a flower."

E: "But is it a name?"

Me: "No.  Well, yes.  It's not really used in English for a name, but in Spanish emerald is Esmeralda and that IS a girl's name"  (I should really shut up now, but I don't, I'm on a roll.)  "There are also lots of girls named for gemstones and jewels: Pearl... Ruby... Opal... Amber..."

E: "Oh! I know amber, there’s an amber Pokemon, it's the amber fossil Pokemon!"
(I love his frames of reference… it always all boils down to Japanimation)

Me: "OK, I didn't know that."
(I think I'm ready to end this conversation now. Bedtime rapidly approaches...)

E: "So what should I name my kids?" (Um, is there something I need to know here?) "How about Daisy and Amber for the girls?"

Me: "Why not?"

E: "Can I name my daughter Venus-Fly-Trap?"

Me: "Um I don’t think that’s a great idea, honey."

E: "Why not, it’s a flower?"

Me: "Well, it’s not a flower, really, more like a carnivorous plant.  Just plain Venus would be better, that’s a Goddess." (Because goodness knows we don't want to give his hypothetical children weird names.)

E: "But it’s a planet."

Me: "That’s right, and the planet is named for the Goddess, the Roman name for the Goddess of love and beauty, whose Greek name is Aphrodite." (Because TMI is my MO.)

E: "What about Jupiter? Boy or Girl?"

Me: "Jupiter is a boy, he's the king of the gods."

E: "I thought that was Zeus!"

Me: "The name Jupiter is Roman, that’s the same God as Zeus to the Greeks.  The Greeks created the pantheon of the Gods and the Romans borrowed them and changed their names." (Someone stop me, please, it's getting late.)

E: "How about Mars?"

Me: "Boy"

E: "Neptune?"

Me: "Boy again, God of the ocean."

E: "I thought that was Poseidon."

Me: "Roman / Greek thing again, honey."

E: "Mercury?  Hey, I know a Mercury!"

Me: "Look, except for Venus, they're all boys, OK?"

E: "That's not fair!"

Me: "I know, probably some ancient boys did the naming, what can I say?"

E: "Well, what about Earth - girl or boy? Can you name a kid Earth?"

Me: "Well, I don’t really know where name came from," (What, me admitting to not knowing something?) "but we always call the planet she, and there's this concept of Mother Earth, so I would say girl. But it's not a name."

(Oops, I had forgotten all about Eartha Kitt. Sorry, Eartha!)

E: "OK, for girls: Venus and Emerald, for the boys: Mohawk and John.  And maybe Uncle."

Me: "Um, honey, how many kids are you planning to have?" (Not that I don’t want to be a Grandma & all…)

E: "Is Rocky a boy or girl name? Can it be a girl’s name as well as a boys’s name? Because that would be awesome. I want to name my girl Rocky."

Me: "Sure" (I'm starting the "just say yes" phase of the evening)

E: "So how’s this: Speed, Lightning… and Jewel"
(He's not even waiting for my answers now, he's on fire, he's on a roll...)

E: "Oh, I know, the boys: Houdini and Marvin" 
(Where does he GET this stuff?)

E: "Wait, what about middle names?  Flame Daisy for the girl, and Lightning Hank for the boy.  That way they each have one cool name and one normal name and they can decide what they want to be called."

Me: "Good thinking honey, you’re really planning ahead. But, um, don’t you think you need to grow up and go off to college and meet a woman and date her and get married before you start planning on naming your kids?  And then she is going to want some input into this process, too, you know."

E: "Uh, Huh.  How about Jupiter and Pegasus?"

Then it started getting really silly:

E: "Count Dracula?"  (Giggling.)

E: "Hand-cuffs & Underpants!"  (Much Giggling.)

But in the end, he was all sensible about some things.

E: “I know what NOT to name my kid: Evil.  That would be a bad idea.”

(Yes, dear, you are all wise like that.)

Me: "You're right, very bad idea. And now, BEDTIME!  For reals."

And finally you should know that while the earlier conversations took place in the living room, this last one took place in the bathroom, Ethan on the toilet, me perched on the tub next to the sink at the far end, thumbing through a Mimi-Boden catalog (and then frantically writing notes all over the catalog white spaces so I could quote him verbatim as everything he said got funnier and funnier).

Because sometimes it’s spooky in our low-lit bathroom at night and he needs a bit of company.

Because while I like to read on toilet, he prefers to talk.

My son is a conversationalist. 

A bathroom conversationalist. 

I pity his future wife. 

And his future children, my grandchildren: Houdini, Uncle and Venus-Fly-Trap.


(Very long) P.S. on why this post is not like the others and giving credit where credit is due:
I am trying something new with this post.  I am trying to be flat-out funny.  For a long time I have wanted to “lighten up” things around here at The Squashed Bologna.  But it’s been kind of hard to do that, what with all the dying going on.  And then there’s Jake’s autism popping up around every corner.  But since my mother has promised to try to stick around until the boys bar mitzvahs, and with things going well at school for Jake right now, I thought it might be safe to attempt a humor piece.  Well, me being me, I had to stick in some autism and a little death stuff.  But still, for me?  We’re in fluffernutter range here.

And what made me think I could do this, what gave me the courage to step out of my comfort zone? My inspiration totally comes from two of my favorite bloggers, my blogging heroes:  Kris of “Pretty All True” and Adrienne of “No Points for Style.”

These women are writers.  Their blogs have a genuine voice.  And they both are not afraid of deep emotion and fierce thought.  They to go where their hearts, minds and souls take them.  And they are hysterically funny and totally irreverent when they chose to be, which is often.  One post will rip your heart to shreds and the next will have you peeing in your pants in hysterics.  And their willingness to go from one to the other, and of their readers to journey with them from tears to laughter made me think of the possibility: “Why not me, too?”

Kris & Adrienne are often at their funniest when they are “reporting” conversations with their husbands and kids, which is why when Ethan stared down this road the other night I immediately flashed on the idea of turning our conversation into a blog post.

So thank you, ladies, for being my bloggy mentors.  Unless this post totally fails and falls flat on its face.  Then of course, I don’t know you and you don't know me.  Wink, wink.


P.P.S. Disclosure: I have linked to the books mentioned in this post, and I am an Amazon Associate. So if you follow my book links to Amazon and buy them I get a few cents. (Yeah, I hate his politics, but B&N doesn't have this program, and I could use the few cents.)

Sometimes it's the little things

There are days when the little things either lift me up or drag me under.

There are days when the few, small, good moments keep me afloat.

These are those days.

Life right now is big in the overwhelming department.  The decline and death of Danny's mother following so close on the heels of my father's passing has bogged down our family in the mourning department.  It has been a year since my father began his big slide.  A year we have been dealing with the deterioration and dying of the old people we love.

Hopefully, this ends here.  Hopefully my mother is in the relative good health she appears to be and will grace us with her presence for at least a few more years.  At 88 she is going strong.  But she is so sad and lonely still.  I want to do more for her, but there are not enough hours in the day.  She needs a companion, and I cannot be that.  I have young children that need me more.  But I am tugged.  And whatever I do, there is guilt over what I am not doing.

Our family is intact, we have taken the hits and absorbed the pain, but we're not sparkly this year. We just don't have much energy for the usual fall razzmatazz.  We haven't been apple picking, haven't taken a hike in the woods, not a leaf has been peeped.  It's a small miracle I got the boys to our upstate friends annual Halloween Party, although we arrived late and Jake's pumpkin never got carved.

Seems I am half-assed right now about... just about everything. Except of course, my actual ass. I've been stress eating, so that's now an ass and a half.

Today I was just bone weary, and did NOT want to get out of bed.  But with kids there's no choice, they need a mom.  I have to get up, shower, make food, make plans, get us out the door to do... something.  Even if that something is just going up the street to someone else's apartment to play with someone else's toys and watch someone else's TV.

It's "out".

It's doing "something".

And most importantly, it's connecting with other people.

I need to keep reminding myself of all the recent small good moments.  String them together like little gems to glisten amid the dung balls that seem to rain down so often in our lives right now.

The other day Jacob had a dentist appointment, and it went wonderfully.  Jacob was able to follow my instructions even though I was behind the protective wall, and we got bite wing x-rays from him for the first time.

The hygienist had asked me "Do you brush his teeth for him?" and I thought she was going to criticize me for them not being clean enough, but instead she praised what a good job we've been doing.

I have had mixed feelings about doing most of his brushing - typically I "start" (do the job) and he "finishes up" (usually a few big swipes and then off to rinse) - because we are really trying to foster more independence in our 8 year old boy.   But dental hygiene is too important to sacrifice to his huge learning curve.  He just likes the feeling of biting on the brush too much to do a good job himself right now, no matter how much we coach him.  And when we tried an electric?  Bite-o-rama. 

But the up side: good dental visits.  And for a kid on the autism spectrum?  That is a godsend.  We have a great pediatric dental practice that knows how to be patient with special needs kids.  But this visit?  He was so close to "typical," really no harder to manage than Ethan, who - no surprise - tends to talk too much, even while they are trying to clean his teeth.

It was extraordinary.  It was a big shiny pearl of a moment. 

Jim Steinhardt - The Pearl Seller, NYC, 1947

Finally, I am brought much joy by my new toy: the scanner.  Coupled with the copious old photos that have recently resurfaced while moving my mother to her smaller apartment, I am in nostalgia heaven.

Cousins, February 1973

That's me at not quite 13, in the middle of my beloved cousins, attempting glamor.  If I recall correctly we were putting on a vampy show for our parents, dancing awkwardly and singing "We are Juvenile Delinquents"* rather off key.

So the garland wrapped around my life currently looks like this: turd, pearl, turd, pearl, turd, turd, turd, ruby, turd, pearl... hoping tomorrow is more pearls than turds (but keeping the rubber gloves on, just in case).


*We called the song "We are Juvenile Delinquents," but you might know it as "Swinging on the Outhouse Door."  It's an old semi-naughty camp song of unknown provenance and variable lyrics.  This is one version of it (ours was quite different, but I haven't found it on the web yet).