One Thousand Words

Suzanne’s Post reminded me that I needed to post this.

We took Niko to the dentist last week for his first ever dental check up.

I was in a state of higher than usual anxiety about this for a number of reasons ranging from guilt that we hadn’t done it earlier (ADA recommends starting at 12 months) and fear that he had cavities (my poor baby!) to near-crippling emotional fallout from simply terrible, traumatic dental experiences that I’ve had throughout my life. FOR INSTANCE, and if you’re the kind of person who is scared of dentists, look away now, FOR INSTANCE, I remember my very first dental appointment! I was five or so. My dad took me. The dentist took me into his office (like, this desk-and-paperwork office) while my dad waited outside, and he sat behind his desk and I sat in a hard wooden chair, and he had a long lecture-y talk with me about What He Would Do To Me if I misbehaved in the exam chair. This included a threat to handcuff me to the chair. Ha haaaaa! FUN, right? And totally appropriate! I’m sure it comes as no surprise what so ever that after this experience I got the screaming fits when confronted with him and had to go to a special pricey pediatric dentist afterward. Yay. That dude was good. The dude after him? DID NOT KNOW HOW TO ADMINISTER NOVOCAINE to the point where I’d just get fillings with no Novocaine because why bother shit don’t work. HAAAAAAAAAAAH.

So anyway!

I don’t have a dentist currently. A quick googling showed a pediatric dentist literally 3 blocks from our home, easily walkable, who takes our insurance. I put off calling and put off calling and put off calling, and then finally called, trying not to hyperventilate. Making the appointment was easy! I even managed to sleep the night before! Nesko and I walked Niko over there. I tried to prep him by telling him what-to-expect stories involving various characters and imaginary friends going to the dentist. Once there, I filled out paperwork while Nesko took Niko into the play room with a climbing structure, slide, and tunnels. WHAT. WHAT.

After a very short wait, we were called back. The dental assistant counted Niko’s teeth, showed him the various tools, brushed his teeth, and took X-Rays. I had a nasty moment where it looked on the X-Ray like he had an immense crack through one of his teeth, but the dentist came in and looked everything over and said he looked fine so it must have just been a shadow or something OH THANK GOOD. There was no flossing, no tooth scraping, just a listerine-and-water rinse and a fluoride application. I asked about sealing his teeth and will bring it up when he gets his adult teeth in. The assistant and dentist were both really cool, laid back, patient, and kind.

Niko was totally unbothered by the events. They had TVs on the wall, so he watched Elmo, and at the end he got two big stickers and a sugar-free sucker. Little dude would shiv me IN A HEART BEAT for a sucker, so this was basically bliss for him. We walked back home and had a chill day.

I’m really glad that his first dental experience, like all of his medical experiences so far, has been so… non-dramatic. I wish we’d taken him to the dentist earlier, but there doesn’t seem to have been any harm done in waiting. We’ll take him again in six months, as recommended by the ADA.

And now that he’s been, I’ve got the first piece of paperwork finished that I need… to enroll him in school this fall. DUN… DUN… DUNNNNNNN.

Mirrored from Now Showing!.

Niko and I went on a big adventure today!

Actually, for most of you, this will be like the most mundane thing you’ve ever read, and you’re going to give me the stink eye. “That’s your big adventure,” you’ll ask disdainfully. “I have five kids under the age of six, and I routinely take them to doctor’s visits, aquariums, and discount outlet malls.”

Niko and I played in the front yard.

I KNOW RIGHT.

I have an Anxiety disorder. It’s with me all the time. It’s like this… I don’t know… this film that colors the world and makes everything vaguely terrifying, except for the things that are acutely terrifying. It is so much easier to just stay in the house, y’know? We have a tiny front yard, and it’s gated, and Niko can’t open the front gate (yet). But there’s no gate keeping him out of the back, which is where we park, and which opens directly onto the alley that people drive stupidly fast down. Also, there’s lots of gravel, broken glass, and rusty screws out there. We know this for a fact because Nesko’s car got a tire punctured by a screw, through the sidewall, so he got all his tires replaced (it was past time) and then about a month later another screw punctured a brand new tire through the sidewall and needed to be replaced HOORAY.

I don’t want my two-year-old running back there, because he has NO CONCEPT of danger, or that cars can hit him and kill him. In fact, one of his favorite things to do while walking with someone is to pull away as soon as he gets to the street/alley, dart into the middle, and stand stock still while staring around wide eyed. Most of our streets are one-way residential streets with speed humps, but people still will RACE REALLY FAST in the spaces between the speed humps or else down the alleys (to make up for lost time?) and they generally treat stop signs  as more a suggestion for other people (lessor mortals, perhaps) and not, like, a hard and fast rule that applies to them.

So leaving the house kind of fills me with terror. Really basic stuff can seem insurmountable. What if he poops and needs to be changed? What if he throws up? (he has not thrown up in MONTHS. He has thrown up 4 times in HIS ENTIRE LIFE, and one time was because he was carsick and one time was because he coughed too hard. WHY DOES THIS FREAK ME OUT.) What if he falls over and breaks all his limbs? What if he runs out in front of a car? What if my pants split open? (THIS LAST IS A REAL DANGER. DO NOT LAUGH.) (OK, you can laugh a little.) What if he gets tired and needs to be carried home, but my collar bone injury is acting up and it causes searing pain to carry him and then my lower back goes out? What if wild dogs attack us? Or wolves? WHAT IF THERE ARE WOLVES.

So I decided to start small today.

I got out some sidewalk chalk. SO FAR SO GOOD. I got both Niko and myself dressed. RIGHT ON. I got a bubble blower gun thing we’d just purchased at Target, and found that you need a tiny screw driver to install the battery. I hid the toy so Niko wouldn’t see it and demand to play with it. I got the camera. I herded us outside.

Niko fell down the stairs.

OH NOES, right? It wasn’t that bad. Our front stairs have a bit where the final 4 stairs kind of turn a bit and the hand rail doesn’t go all the way down. Niko got distracted by a scooter the upstairs tennants left in the front hall, missed a step, wasn’t holding onto the rail, and tumbled right down and rolled across the floor. Then he popped right up.

“Out,” he said. “Out!”

ALL SYSTEMS GO.

We went out for about half an hour. I walked around in the grass with no shoes on (bliss!). Niko scribbled on the sidewalk, found his new best friend (a rock, named “rock.” he likes to give it kisses.), and drove a truck along a raised wooden walkway only to throw it over the edge, holler “OH NO TRUCK,” go retrieve it, and repeat the process… over and over and over again.

He also figured out how to take his jacket off.

Niko really hasn’t figured out how to take his clothing off, or put it on. If I’m taking his shirt off or putting it on, he moves his arms around and helps. He recently figured out how to do the easy parts of a zipper (getting it started is hard). But he doesn’t really dress or undress himself. Not even his shoes! Well, his old shoes that had crappy velcro, he could get those off. But these ones, he totally can’t. At all. His failure is hilarious, because he tries to take them off while standing up. The same with his socks. He stands up, his socks on his feet, and tugs at the toes of the socks until he goes off balance and then gets all angry that his socks made him fall over. So getting his jacket off is kind of a big deal, and also I think something most other kids learn when they are like 18 months old. :/

The problem, however, was two fold. 1) It’s early May, and still pretty chilly out. To put this into perspective, when I hosted an alternate prom my Senior year, it was in early May. We all went camping for 3 days and 2 nights. Somebody got frost bite. It wasn’t BAD, but you know. Frost bite. 2) He knew he was supposed to leave his jacket on.

So he’d run to the far corner of the yard (which isn’t very far), shrug off his jacket, give me A LOOK, then throw the jacket onto the ground and step all over it in triumph. It was like a dance of victory. Then, pretty soon, he’d get cold and say “brr, brr” and bring the jacket back to me and I’d help him put it on, and he’d run back to the far corner and strip it off and do a jig on it. Lather, rinse, repeat for like ten times.

As I tried to herd Niko inside, he gave me the slip and did a runner for the back. He made it out into the alley. I was able to grab him up and carry him inside with no real problems. We both survived the excursion, and he ate a good lunch and fell asleep (he’s been sleeping HORRIBLY recently, in part due to Nesko having a grueling work schedule and Niko not seeing him for days at a stretch). If I don’t freak out at the last minute, I’ll try taking him to an actual park on Wednesday. Heck, it’s Nesko’s late day (as in, he goes in late and stays late). Maybe we’ll go to the park as a family. There is a park right near Target, so we can go there and then maybe I can get some pants that aren’t ten years old and made of disintegrating fabric.

I’LL KEEP YOU UPDATED.

Technorati Tags: anxiety, anxiety disorder, parenting, toddler

Mirrored from Now Showing!.

Niko added a new word to his repertoire: Yellow.

He’s resisted saying this word, although he recognizes it and points to things that are yellow. But he wouldn’t say it. Just like he rarely says “pink” or “purple,” although he’s said them in the past. Just like he usually won’t say “djedo” (grandpa), instead referring to my father-in-law as “not baba” (not grandma).

I broke it down for him, chirping out “yeh-yoh!” in my brightest, most exclamatory voice. “yeh! Yeh! Can you say “Yeh?” Yeh-yoh!”. He picked it up very quickly after that, after the word was given to him in sounds he could reproduce, after he was given permission to say it the word differently (no “L” to trip him up).

My father-in-law came over today to fix our heat (which was out all weekend– glad it’s been warmer lately). Due to the nature of our vintage building, our heater is in what used to be the pantry (OH GOD I WANT TO RECLAIM THAT SPACE AS A PANTRY), and the fridge is in the doorway of that pantry. He was entering and exiting through what used to be a window (there’s a door over it) leading into the pantry from the external stair well. Niko gets super excited when his djedo is behind the fridge, and dances around in the kitchen trying to peek between the fridge and the wall to see into the little room back there and spot my FIL. He doesn’t think he’s inside the fridge, he knows he’s behind it (although that would be HILARIOUS). He was dancing around today calling my attention, and telling me that djedo was there. And he said “djedo.” Like, two or three times. It came out more as “dedo,” but it was recognizable. He was so excited, and so eager to communicate, that he said it even though it wasn’t “right.”

And then he wouldn’t say it later, even when djedo was playing with him, and trying to coax him into saying it.

We showed off a bit, and Niko said “blue” and “red” and “orange” (he says it fine now, no hesitation) and I pushed things and tried to get him to say “purple.” He wouldn’t. My FIL says he saw Niko’s lips make the shape for “P” and then he stopped.

He’s a careful and hesitant child in a lot of ways. I mean, you know, sure he’ll throw himself off the couch or clamber to the top of a seven foot tall slide and go shooting down, but there are some risks he just doesn’t take until his feet are under him.

Nesko and I both have perfectionist traits and while that’s something people list as a positive thing, it can really hold a person back when it gets out of hand. Niko isn’t doing things he is able to do, because he isn’t doing them well enough. He isn’t saying words he is capable of saying, because he isn’t saying them well enough. But look at him, he’s saying “orange” now when previously he wasn’t because it was hard. And each time he says it, it sounds better. So I’m confident he’ll, you know, eventually say “purple.” But I’m anxious for him, and I’m worried that this will impact him later in life.

In the mean time, I’m delighting in the fact that he kept pointing to my feet all day, at my fuzzy yellow socks, and saying “yehyoh. Mama yehyoh.” and then he’d pat his chest, his orange shirt, and say “ouraaaaaannnn.” And then he’d smile, all proud.

Technorati Tags: parenting, toddler

Mirrored from Now Showing!.