Coming Home

There is something so wonderful about coming home after a trip. Even though I was only gone for about 63 hours, which is a little over two and a half days, coming home felt special.

I told the girls about the trip a couple of weeks before I left. I wanted to give them time to process the idea of me leaving before they were slapped in the face with the actuality of it.

When I got home Sunday night, three minutes later than scheduled, the girls had the back door open before I had even pulled into the garage. Olivia stood on the top step, her hands clasped to her chest, waiting for me to get out of the car.

Alyssa had no such patience. She was at the car, opening the door herself so she could hug me. She needed that physical reassurance that I was truly home.

Even as I hugged Alyssa, I called to Olivia, “Come here!”

She giggled with glee and ran down the stairs to join in the hug Alyssa and I were sharing.

This entire past week has been similar. When I get home from work, the girls are there to greet me, to show me affection and love.

We’re a pretty affectionate family already but when Mom spends two days and two nights away from her babies, those babies feel it. We’ve been making up for those missed hugs, those missed kisses, those missed “I love you”s.

My house is a mess right now, the kitchen floor needs swept and mopped, the entryway needs swept and decluttered. The carpets need to be vacuumed and there is a basket of clothes in the girls’ room that needs to be put away.

But my children know they are loved. They know their mom missed them while she was away and in the end, that is so much more important than an immaculate house.

It’s nice to go away because it’s wonderful to come home again.

Eyeball Update

Olivia did amazingly well at her eyeball appointment yesterday. She answered questions (in whispers, but still, they were answers that the examiner could hear and understand!), she sat still when she was asked to do so and when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to respond to the male doctor, he just shrugged and said there were other ways to figure this stuff out.

From the start, the female assistant said O appeared to have fairly blurry vision.

After the doctor was finished, he declared her vision at 20/400. That’s where my vision was when I had Lasik eye surgery back in 2008. So I know how bad her vision it. It’s bad, like really bad.

She also has astigmatism in each eye. How bad the astigmatism is wasn’t really explained but it’s there.

Other than that, her eyes look healthy, thank goodness.

Her new glasses will be ready in two weeks. I can’t wait for her to be able to see, to really see what is all around her.

And get this, I’m not wallowing in mommy guilt over not knowing that she needed glasses. She’s done the vision test each year and this was the first year the nurse called with concerns. We moved on this concern as soon as it was voiced to us.

We don’t know what we don’t know. You know?

And now that we know, we’re doing what we can to fix it for her. It’s what we do. And it’s okay that we don’t know everything. We keep on trying, keep on doing our best and after an eyeball appointment, you buy your kids some fries and DQ Arctic Rushes in neon blue because it was just one of those days. Fries and artificially flavored crushed ice always make everything better.

And for the record, Olivia is way excited to be getting glasses. I’m writing this here so I can look back and laugh at myself the first and twenty-first time she loses/breaks/refuses to wear her glasses. Because we all know those things will happen and we’ll get through that too.

Look at me, all zen and crap.

We'll See

So yes, the school called me again a week or so ago. This time, it was the school nurse. She’s lovely.

She was calling to tell me that she was worried about Olivia’s vision. See, Nurse B had tried to give O a vision test twice in the past couple of weeks and while Olivia did fine on the first two lines, she just looked away after that. She did this both times.

This is not Nurse B’s first interaction with Olivia. She knows Olivia can be stubborn. But O has done well in the past few years (remember, this is her fourth year at this school) and so Nurse B didn’t want to just chalk it up to stubbornness.

She admitted that it could very well be that, but she’d feel better if we took Olivia to an optometrist to have her vision tested by a professional.

I assured her I’d get O in as soon as possible and that I’d let her know how the exam went. She hung up happy that she’d called.

From the time Olivia was an infant, her right eye has kind of ‘wandered’ when she gets tired. Sometimes, if the camera catches just the right moment, her eye can still look a little wonky.

But we had her seen when she was about two and a half by an eye specialist in Indianapolis who declared her fine.

So, we’ll find out this afternoon.

As soon as Nurse B and I hung up I called the practice I used to see back when I wore glasses. My first question was if they could test the vision of stubborn children.

When I was assured that they could, I went on to say that my daughter has special needs, she can be non-verbal when she chooses and she might be a difficult patient.

I was again assured that they’d be able to test her just fine.

The appointment was made and here we are, counting down the hours until Tom brings O to me so I can take her to her appointment.

She asked him this morning if today was “Eyeball Day.” It took me a minute to figure out what she meant.

When I told her about the appointment, she got a gleam in her eye. I think she might actually WANT glasses.

Tom, on the other hand, dreads Olivia getting glasses. He’s picturing loads of broken glasses. Olivia is quite the tumbler. I assured him we’d figure it out, if she does end up needing glasses.

Honestly, I think she’d be adorable in glasses. But I do worry about having to make her wear them on her more stubborn days.

We’ll see. One way or the other, we’ll know in a few hours.

Sometimes Everything Comes Together Just Right

I am the first to admit that I can be flighty and scatter brained. Remember, I am the one who scheduled a flight last year and was off by a month. A MONTH!! I can be such a flake.

This year, though, thanks to Julie checking my itinerary before I processed it, everything was right.

Wait, not quite. I did forget to wait at the kiosk for my second boarding pass but that was caught right there in the Phoenix airport, where the nice lady behind the counter was able to print it for me and all was well.

So yes, that happened.

But the rest of the day? Awesomeness! Seriously.

Julie and I got to the airport at about 6:30, which was just right because security took FOREVER. But even that wasn’t all that stressful, because, duh, we got there with plenty of time, unlike the lady behind me in line who was wearing a baby and only had ten minutes to get through security and make it to their gate. And! Yes, there is always an and. And the baby was hungry. Poor little darlin’.

Ahh, but Julie and I were the picture of relaxed as we watched the sun rise enough to hit the tops of the mountains outside the airport. So pretty.

As we watched the beauty that is an Arizona sunrise, I said something so completely and totally stupid. I said, “I love visiting Arizona. It’s beautiful here. But I think I’d miss rain.”

Ha. Hahahahaha. What’s that you hear? Is that karma laughing in the background? Little did I know that five hours later, I’d be climbing into my car and driving through pouring rain for over an hour on my way home.

“You’d miss rain?” Mother Nature cackled. “I’ll make sure you never have to miss rain, you silly twit.”

Earlier in the weekend, I’d stressed just a little over the tight-ish connection I had in Chicago and the fact that I was arriving in Terminal 1 and leaving out of Terminal 2. I had 42 minutes between my arrival in Chicago and my departure to Detroit. Any sort of delay was going to make things tough.

But after an amazing motivational speech by Kevin Bracy, I decided to let it go. I also decided not to entertain any possibility that I wouldn’t make that connection.

When I called Tom from the airport in Phoenix, I told him I’d call him when I was in Detroit. I didn’t tell him I’d call him if I missed my flight in Chicago, I didn’t even mention the tight connection. I was going to make that plane and I was going to call him for Detroit.

We relaxed on the plane from Phoenix to Detroit, though I admit to not drinking anything during the three hour flight for fear of having to pee as I made my way from the very end of Gate C to Gate F in O’Hare.

Then, behold, the angels sang. Well, okay, so the pilot came over the intercom and declared, “Welcome to Chicago, O’Hare. We’re arriving about ten minutes ahead of schedule.”

And get this! There was not dawdling on the tarmac, there was no gate change that necessitated us taxi-ing from one gate to another. No, everyone was very civilized as they gathered their belonging and deplaned.

Being the smart woman I am, I checked my bigger bag in Phoenix, figuring it was just a bunch of dirty laundry, if it missed the flight to Detroit, it would make its way home eventually. I’d put the girls’ souvenirs in the smaller bag I carried on. So smart!

Julie and I got off the plane, found some monitors, hugged goodbye and I fast walked through the airport, following signs to gate F.

Then I came to the end of gate B and…it was a dead end.

I asked three airport employees for directions to gate F and they told me I was just in time. They directed me down some stairs where a shuttle was waiting to transport me and four other lucky passengers across the tarmac to terminal 2.

There was a very helpful gentleman who told me that my gate was across the hall from the stairs I’d be taking to get back into the airport. And, he told me, the ladies room was next to my gate. The skies opened and blessing rained down upon the land.

I checked with the lady guarding gate F2B and she told me we’d be boarding in about twenty minutes.

I used the bathroom, bought a sandwich (that breakfast Julie and I had in Phoenix was long gone) and a bottle of water and waited.

Boarding commenced and everyone was so nice.

I didn’t have to climb over anyone to get into my window seat, which is unusual, let me tell you. Even more surprising was that as people continued to board the plane, no one sat next to me. And then the flight attendant closed the door and STILL no one sat next to me. I had two whole seats to myself. I put the arm rest up, pulled down the tray (we were high in the sky by this point) and ate my sandwich, relaxed and happy to be that much closer to home.

And then we landed, my bag found its way onto the baggage carousel and together, my bag and I found our way to my car.

I called Tom from my car to tell him that I was finally in control of my travel and I’d be home in two and a half hours.

The rain added some time to my travel. I was three minutes later than I’d anticipated when I pulled into our garage, where Lyss and Liv were already waiting for me.

It was so, so lovely to see them.

Yes, it’s always nice to get away, but it’s even nicer to come home.

New State

I’ve been known to sit and count all the states in which I’ve stepped foot. Weird? Maybe. But I don’t get out much and so this is kind of fun.

For the record my poor children have both been to four states. Four. I know, I’m a neglectful, terrible mother.

Whatever.

This weekend, I get to go to a state to which I’ve never been. I’m so excited.

I am going to Arizona to meet up with some amazing women I met online several (okay, almost eight) years ago. I found an amazing online support group right after Olivia was born and spent some time in the NICU.

Wait, let me backtrack. Julie, the amazing, wonderful Julie found the online support group when her daughter was born 15 weeks early and spent over 90 days in the NICU.

When Olivia was born and spent her time in an isolet Julie encouraged me to go on this site and share my story. I hemmed and hawed. I said that Olivia ‘only’ spent eleven days in the NICU, that was nothing compared to Julie’s daughter’s time spent.

Julie kept at me and I’m so, so glad she did. When Olivia was four months old, I went on that site and spilled my guts about the things I felt during O’s time in the hospital and about how we were still, at that point, dealing with a very unhappy, sickly baby.

The welcome was amazing. No one asked me what I thought I was doing there, talking about a full-term baby who only spent eleven days in the hospital. No one though my story was any less than any other parent who worried over their child.

This led to some amazing online friendships and eventually, real live friendships with women who get it when I talk about the Little Debbie Christmas tree cakes. They get those twinges of PTSD. They understand my wonder at O’s accomplishments and my worry over Alyssa being the typical sibling of a special needs child.

And so this weekend, I get to go see these friends yet again. We get together once a year and it’s amazing. It’s cathartic to see them, to hug them, to cry a few tears and laugh so, so many laughs.

Tom and the girls have my mom as backup should things get tough at home. But I have faith in all of them that the house will still be standing when I get home on Sunday evening.

Math Logs

First graders have a log for math. We’re supposed to work on math facts five times a week.

Ugh!

I feel lucky that we already read three books a night. We’ve been doing this for about three years. It’s part of our schedule, we just do it. The writing of these books into her reading log doesn’t necessarily come naturally but we’re getting there.

But math facts are not part of the schedule and I’m not a natural at finding ways to incorporate these things into day to day life.

Because the math (and reading) logs are turned in on Wednesdays, last night, I was calling randomly calling out to Olivia, “Hey, Liv! If you have two oranges and I take one away, how many do you have left?”

Once she answered (which wasn’t always), I’d say, “That’s a math fact.”

And into the log it went. Here’s where I confess that we did four of her five math fact moments last night. The log will show that we did them on different days. Alas, the log lies.

I’m that mom. The one who is lazy about practicing math facts.

Does our over-achieving in the reading log make up for it? We’re supposed to read five books a week. We turned in 18 books on this past week’s log.

I’m just hoping that by being an over achiever in one area and an under achiever in the other, we end up averaging out to be a regular old achiever at the end of the day.

Yes, yes, I know it doesn’t work that way. Maybe next week, I’ll get five books that have some sort of math fact in them so that we can count those in the reading log AND the math log.

I kind of love that idea. I’m all about multi-tasking.

Can I Help?

Over the years, I’ve wallowed in guilt over not letting my kids help me cook or bake.

They always ask and I always just want to do it myself. It’s easier, cleaner, etc. if I do it myself.

But I knew, logically, that they weren’t learning anything at all by racing around me as I did the work in the kitchen. I wasn’t teaching them life skills by doing it all myself.

So yesterday when I announced I was going to make cookies, both A and O asked hopefully, “Can I help?”

And this time, I said yes.

Before we started I figured out which job each girl could do with minimal mess.

I had Alyssa measure out the flour, salt and baking soda into a small bowl and then mix it all up.

I let Olivia unwrap the butter, letting it drop into the bowl as she did so. She also dumped the sugars into the bowl after I measured them out for her.

I let Olivia start stirring the sugars and butter as Alyssa added the eggs and vanilla.

Then, once the mixture got stiff enough that the girls couldn’t muscle their way through stirring it, I took over.

We add three different types of chocolate chips to our cookies and so each girl got to dump in some chips. Olivia volunteered for the job of eating stray chips as they made their way on to the lip of the bowl. She was extra good at that one.

Once the cookies were baked, A and O took great pride and presenting a plate of them to Tom, letting him know that they had helped make them.

He declared the cookies the best ones ever baked. I’m inclined to agree. I think this might the beginning of some great things to come.