Yo! Gabba Gabba Party In My Tummy

There's a party in tummy, so yummy, so yummy!

A Milestone Day

I love Wikipedia. They have the best definition of a Milestone:

"A milestone or kilometre sign is one of a series of numbered markers placed along a road at regular intervals, typically at the side of the road or in a median. Milestones are constructed both to reassure the traveller that the proper path is being followed and to indicate distance travelled, or the remaining distance to the desired destination..."

Yesterday was a Milestone day for our family, Thomas in particular. Thomas has sensory issues. Some kids have major issues, some not so much. Thomas is in the middle. He's what they call a "sensory seeker." I hate labels but it really does describe him. Basically he craves sensations. (No wonder he had NO problems hopping on every ride at the State Fair.) He likes to play in water and goo. He'd be perfectly happy bare naked in a pool of Nickelodeon Slime. Thomas' smart. He knows how to get to his Daddy's job across town and his best buddy's house 18 miles away. His mind is always hungry for brain food. He can be hard to keep up with sometimes. He wants to touch everything, be on the floor and feel the carpet or hardwood, slide across it, stomp his bare feet on it. He's very touchy feely with everything and everybody, plus he's as big as an average 6-7 year old and he'll be 4 next month. He needs space, he's going to take it and then a little more. Thankfully he has the best disposition and loves life and people. He's going to be a big teddy bear one day. I guess that makes him a baby big teddy bear.

Another part of his sensory deal regards food. He's had a rough relationship with food. He can't stand certain textures in his mouth. He doesn't like anything with a lot of texture of any kid. Pasta is great because it's smooth...rice, not so great because it's too "bumpy." He couldn't eat a spoon full of peas to save his life. Corn on the cob was out of the question. No grits, or oatmeal. No ground meat. Some chicken is okay. Unfortunately processed meat is fine...it's smooth texture works. His tonsils and adenoids were 4 times "normal" size. With his physical problem and his aversion to certain textures in his mouth he had a superpower that allowed him projectile vomit on a whim. Trust me when I tell you, it happened so much I became almost numb to it, even in public. I'd clean up and our family would go on with our meal. We stopped eating out so much and when we did, we'd only let him have "safe" foods. His tonsils and adenoids have been removed and that helped with a lot of the vomiting, but he still had the texture issue. Over time he stopped eating most veggies. I'd sneak them in juice and sauces, but he wasn't getting enough, plus he's been eating too much processed foods. He does love tomato soup. He calls it "Granny Soup" because he would eat it with my Mom.

We went to the grocery store the other day and I told him to pick out some veggies. (I still try to get him to voluntarily eat them when I can, even though he hasn't touched a real vegetable in over a year.) He chose a can or Corn and a can of Sweet Peas. He was excited about it. I wasn't so sure. Yesterday he had one of those crazy expensive frozen kids meals with chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, corn, and pudding. HE ATE THE CORN!!! ALL OF IT!!! I was so proud of him and he was proud of himself. It was a good feeling. Last night I wanted all of us to sit down to dinner. We haven't sat down for a while because someone has been sick in our house for the past 2 weeks. I made baked chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, and peas. I figured that everyone could find something that they liked. I made the obligatory move of putting peas on the kids plates. Luke is sick and opted to play with his food and eat Saltines. Thomas cleared his plate....PEAS and all. We got up and did the "Party in my Tummy" dance. Another proud moment. :) This morning Thomas wanted Peas for breakfast. Today I'm a happy Mommy.

Circle, Circle, Dot, Dot

Pictured below is a seemingly sweet little monkey.

Many times preschoolers are often compared to monkeys. They are similar in many ways...there have been countless studies regarding those similarities. It's truly amazing. Take a closer look at the monkey. Do you recognize him? He's the happy little Ebola infested "Outbreak Monkey" from that 1990's movie. If you have a preschooler you may know where I'm headed. The picture of my dear son was taken on his first little day of Preschool. See the twinkle in his eye? Sweet huh? Well, my son has now morphed into the freaking outbreak monkey. He has brought home every cootie known to man. I am convinced that the disease that will end mankind is currently incubating in a Preschool.

Wilma warned me. I should have listened...hello...she has a doctorate in pharmacy and her son was in preschool last year. She told me to be prepared to be "sick as hell all winter." Damn germs. Normally I would complain that "they" should be looking for a cure for the common cold and all of these super germs that my son has brought home....Not this week...I watched I Am Legend the other day and would be happy if all scientists took a break from manipulating viruses for the time being.

So there's my preschool rant, and here's my disclaimer...I love our preschool and wouldn't trade Thomas' good times and knowledge that he's gained for all of the snot in the world. Like shit, germs happen.

I hurt

I hurt. That's it. Nothing else. Besides the kick ass shirt that I found. I have to buy one. I wonder what the Moms at the Methodist Preschool would think? Seriously, this past week I think everything that could hurt does. Even my hair hurts, you would agree if you saw it...Totally Stephanie Kimball bangs with 2 braids. Only the bangs are sticking straight up naturally. This week I figured out why Valium are called "Mother's little helpers." If you don't know, take my pain, 2 kids, and dirty house, for a day. I'm seriously not a pill popper. Valium are a dream for my back pain. With them I'm able to walk and take care of my kids. (With the little bonus that them make me care less about my dirty house.)