tough stuff

So, yesterday we got back from the license debacle and had lunch with Bear. Rio napped from 11:00 til 12:15. We all threw down some food and by 1:00 Rio and I were headed to Whole Foods Market, the grocery store that makes me giddy with glee.


me: Hello, how can I help you?

one of 3 women: I'm (BARKBARKBARK) with (BARKBARKBARK).

me: (thinking 'odd time of day for Jehovah's Witnesses') I'm sorry, you're who?

1 of 3: We're (BARKBARKBARK) from the (BARKBARKBARK) Agency.

me: Agency?

1 of 3: Ye(BARKBARKBARK)s, the Early Intervention program? We have an appointment to see Rio today?

Well fuck. I completely forgot about that appointment and I hadn't looked at my book in days because for days I HAD BEEN TRYING TO GET TO THE FUCKING GROCERY STORE! So, I invited them in. With lunch dishes on the counter. And the rowing machine in the middle of the family room. And Mo and Ron trying to lick their faces.


They test a child on 6 different competencies. I can't remember them because the seriousness of having 2 nurses and a social worker finally hit me.

Something is wrong with Rio.

She is advanced in her fine motor skills. I'd love to bore you to death with how she poked her little finger into the scoop of the woman's hand where she had tried to surreptitiously palm a peg, but you'd soon grow weary. Her fine motor skills, reasoning skills and communication skills are advanced for her age.

She is on target with mimicking.

Her gross motor skills are 2 months behind. She's where an average 7 month old is. She'll be 10 months on the second.

I knew that would be the case. I'm not stupid. I see all the other babies in yoga crawling and rocking and side sitting and some of the little fuckers are standing up. They are all a lot younger. Rio sits happily, enjoying the goings on without feeling compelled to jump up and run around.

It was just hard to hear it.

Then last night I started to read more about the program. I called them initially because our new pediatrician recommended them; said Rio's torticollis would qualify her. I wonder if he had something else on his mind. Fucker.


I am anxious in the clinical sense. I have spikes of sweaty palms. My face flushes when a wave of anxiety breaks over my consciousness. I feel like crying and screaming and I don't know how to cope with the helpless feeling I have. All this since yesterday when I got the news.

Sub-normal gross motor skills.

I know many people out there have much bigger problems. I know we're so fortunate that her early and tough start is having so little effect on her growth. I know I know I know. But I still feel like crying. And screaming. My face is still hot and I still worry I might just fly off the earth because of the molecules of terror flinging themselves against my skin from the inside.

rip van baby

It has been a tough weekend/beginning of the week. Much running about, much oddness of schedules, much much. So, last night we were all exhausted. Quick bath, fast bottle, short book and Miss Rio is sound asleep by 8 o'clock. Bear and I head for bed just after 10 and are asleep by just after 11. Early for us.

This morning I woke up first, looked at the clock and was shocked to see 7:59. I woke Bear up and went in to see Rio. Sound asleep. Usually her little noises wake me up in the morning so I never set the alarm. Not today.

We went downstairs and had coffee together. Little wakeup noises coming from the monitor at 8:20. I gave her 10 minutes and then went to get her. Change, bottle, bananas and dressed. Today, I think, we're getting out of here early.

So, I get a phonecall from another mother with a baby with torticollis and plagiocephaly. We talk for 35 minutes. It's hard to go back there, but I'm happy to help. While talking to her I get dressed so we can get to Whole Foods Market and back before Bear comes home for lunch. Rio is playing and starts squeaking at 10:45. I say "No way kiddo. We're going to the grocery store. You just woke up!" and she plays for a few minutes. Then she looks at me and gives me the squeak again.

I know this squeak. This is how she says, "Naptime for me!". One more squeak and I'm putting her down at 11:05. She's asleep already.

Rip Van Baby.

I'm not complaining, really. I don't want to consider the alternate reality of a child that doesn't sleep. It's just hard to leave the house between all the sleeping and eating and sleeping again. Oh well, I guess I'll change the beds and try again this afternoon.

And, IA's right - misery does make for better blogging. I'm boring myself today.

ummm... ahhh, uhhhh...

So I'm supposed to guest blog. I need to gather my thoughts first - there's so much to write about. I'll figure something out and write tomorrow.

Right now I'm doing some patent research for the company I used to work for. It's a good gig but it gets pretty dry. I entertain myself by hiding secret messages in the applications I write and playing around with my invoice template to make my invoices just right. It's really all about sending them the pretty, symmetrical invoices every month. I giggle every time I email one to the accounts payable woman. She's cool: we make fun of the CEO, we make fun of the company in general, we wonder when he's going to bail out and pull the ripcord, unfurling his platinum parachute. She always gets my check cut in the very next check run. She's the best.

This month's check will get us a fenced-in back yard, something to corral Mo and Ron. I can't imagine what they'd kill and drag out of the swamp if they got loose. Something really stinky I'm sure.

I miss Nita and I miss Rio. They smell good...