In Which I Become Melodramatic and Post Against My Better Judgement

Today I have been a little overly emotional about Everett's verbal development. I tracked down some contact information for the developmental programs here, and I am going to get going on that first thing tomorrow. In the mean time, I have been doing a lot of research on various disorders. The therapists mentioned Apraxia in their notes to the state but somehow neglected to inform me about it until I called later to ask my rep if a particular term had been used to describe his condition. Apraxia is somewhat of a big deal as far as his development goes. With the right treatment and intervention, he could be speaking normally in a few years. However, it would be a very difficult process, and this disorder can affect lots of other things developmentally.

As someone who has worked with literacy in young children, and because I didn't have any yet, I had always imagined "making" my children be beyond age level in those areas. I have just had to take some time to re-wire my expectations. I know things will work out. I know this, and it comforts me. However, I know that in order for things to work out, I am going to have to do a lot of things I do not understand yet. As of right now, I have millions of questions and it is all a bit overwhelming. Later, It will not be so overwhelming.

What I have really been meaning to say is that since we moved here, Everett's delay has been much more obvious to me. I have been able to interact daily with many children Everett's age. Take this playground conversation:

Child Everett's age: "Mama, I pay on da swide?"

Everett: "Ma-a-a-a-am. ayaam (more similar, unintelligible sounds) iyhs (word for slide, while patting his chest to indicate that he wants to do something).

I recently had a jolting experience at the grocery store. I heard a sweet child calling out for his mother, "Ma-a-hm! Maaaaaaam!" I couldn't help but smile to myself, because his call sounded like an exact copy of the one I hear from Everett 73 times a day. I rounded the corner, picturing a child like Everett helping his mom shop.

Instead, I found a baby who couldn't have been much older than Ashley, sitting in his cart and crying because he had dropped his bottle. My shoulders sagged a little under my surprise and I went on my way. My days are filled with a thousand of these moments but I have not yet become calloused.

I have overheard children his age singing. I have talked to them about birthdays, presents, favorite foods, and lots of other things. I am tremendously happy that these children are able to interact with me this way, but each time I talk to them, my heart aches for my own son and the reality of his atypical delay. There is little I wouldn't give to be able to kneel down with Everett and help him say a prayer rather than asking him to repeat after me, knowing full well that he is not able to complete a repetition of a single simple word, let a lone an entire prayer. But I ask him anyway. Each time, he will smile shyly and sweetly at me, motioning that he wants me to do it, and I almost feel like crying.

I would love to be able to teach him the words to songs. I would love to have real conversations with him. I want so badly to hear the questions I know he has. I want to know what he understands and hear what he thinks. I would love to be able to go into his room at night after he has awakened and immediately understand what he needs. As it is now, he tries to tell me and we both become increasingly frustrated when I can't begin to figure it out. More often than not, our conversation ends with me losing my patience and snapping at him. Fortunately he is more patient with me than I am with myself.

Things can get tricky in our mono-syllabic world where "help" and "papa" sound the same, "elephant" is nonsensical, and few words are expressed to me with the correct consonants or vowel sounds. Each morning I resolve to be less frustrated and more patient with Everett's abilities that day. My child speaks to me in a babbling language I can't understand, and often I become trapped in a maze of confusion and desperation. Each night I go to bed, realizing I came no closer to meeting my goal than the day before, and I bury my guilt somewhere I won't have to think of it.

Then, just when I begin to fully give in to self-pity and grief, I see how happy Everett is. I feel grateful that he is at an age where it doesn't matter to him if he can talk or not; he lives life just the same. I never get tired of seeing him get so excited for dinner that he pulls his father's face close to his with an excited "Oh! OH!"--the sign in our house that dinner is on the table because he can't verbalize the word "dinner", "eat" or "food". But the way he says it, you'd think the circus just landed in our living room.

Other times, my sensibilities are opened to the scope of Everett's understanding. These are precious moments to me because it is rare that he is able to communicate even a small portion of what he knows. This morning after I told him we were baking a cake, I went into the kitchen to find that he had laid all of the correct ingredients neatly on the counter for me. He remembered our last trip to the grocery store when I explained that the sour cream and strawberries were to go in the cake, and that we needed to pick up some more butter and cream cheese for the frosting. He also remembered to get three eggs. A measuring cup. A big spoon. When I came over to help he asked me about the flour and the sugar, which were sitting in a cabinet beyond his reach.

"ookkkk!" (cook) He said to me excitedly, standing on his special stool, and wearing his special smile--the one with that pinpoint of a dimple in his right cheek. The pleasure bubbled inside me as I got to work with this child of mine. Cooking is one of our only mediums which does not require Everett to correctly pronounce words. It is so tactile that he can communicate strictly by touch and pointing. He is my sweet little sous-chef.

And I? I am trying on a few new hats. Sign language teacher. Speech therapist. Phoneme coach. But most importantly, child advocate. It is a weighty and worrying responsibility, but perhaps one that comes the most naturally.

I am not positive about Everett's diagnosis; he matches every warning sign in the books, but there is surprisingly little people know about Childhood Apraxia of Speech (CAS). We'll be able to clarify this in the next few months. Though I am unintentionally taking a couple of days to feel the weight of the issue, I am grateful his problems are not worse. There are so many things that would be more difficult to deal with than a speech disorder. I feel blessed to have a connection with my child, that he is happy, and that he enjoys life. Above all, I want my children to grow up as kind people whether their speech is articulate or not. This I know he will do, and that makes me happy.

Because You Asked. . .

Here are some pictures of our fancy new digs.

I experimented with my photo stitching software to try to get a full picture of the living area. It's a little off in the middle, but you get the general idea.

Kitchen

Surprisingly, I fit everything I had in my other kitchen in here, plus more, with extra room! I don't know how, but there is actually a lot of space here. The cabinets are really deep, even if they're old.


Because we had no blinds, I got to get new curtains. It's kind of nice to have curtains because when they're drawn they add color to the room, and they also cover up the air conditioning unit. Not that that really matters to me, but there you have it.

Our place is small, but we're fitting everything. The more we live here, the more we love it. The amenities are fantastic--there is even an exercise room with a separate tv and play area for the kids. We will never feel isolated here; there are always people who are having game nights or outings. Already the little mormon community in here has gotten together. It has been really fun to get to know them. Also, there are so many kids here that I don't worry about mine when they make a lot of noise, like I did before. Our upstairs neighbor was very sweet, but any time I had to run out to the car for something, she'd come find me and ask me if my kids were inside all alone. "Yes, they're both asleep," I'd say, "And I just had to grab some groceries that shouldn't be left in the trunk."

Needless to say, it has been less stressful knowing that if my kids throw tantrums, no one cares, and everyone is about as understanding as you could get.

Addendum

We're watching James Bond right now.

You all know this about me already, but I'm having a very hard time taking this show seriously.

Am I the only one who feels this way?


**Updated** Ummm--has anyone seen the one with Halle Barry? The one where he is stuck in some super kayak at the top of a vertical face of a huge, huge ice cliff? And then it all starts melting and somehow, even though he is hundreds of feet in the air, he survives the fall (with the kayak intact), amidst massive pieces of ice? And uses a parachute to help him stand on the lid of the kayak and "surf" through the huge tidal wave that results from all that suddenly melting ice?

Who comes up with these things? How is this any worse than some contrived romantic comedy?

Hello? Is this thing on?

"Today Was The Coolest Day!"

That is what Joel said to me when he asked why I hadn't posted about today yet. "Do you know how many people get to do what we did?" he asked, after I gave him some sort of non-committal answer to his first question.

Well. I suppose he's right. Today was pretty fun. We were supposed to go up and meet him at the press box in the stadium for lunch and to be addressed by Digger Phelps. Well. . .unbeknownst to me, the schedule was changed at the last minute and I didn't get to hear much of what he said. It did work out for the best, though, because this meant I was able to take the kids and go with Joel on the tour of the stadium. The only downside to the day was that there was only one other child there, the one-year-old son of some mormon friends of ours. It is a little awkward to be the only one toting two young, noisy kids in a group of 70 professionals dressed in business casual.

So, I know our blog has had a great shortage of pictures recently (eye roll), so here are a whole bunch more! Excited? Well, feel free to skip them if you want. There are a lot of them. But, if you want to see what the football players see, you'll have to bear through them all.

Yep. That's right--see the sign? "Athlete Entrance." Fortunately they let us in for the day.

Immediately after going through the gate, you see where the old building exterior still is. If you go through the arch on the right, you will enter the locker room.

I don't know why my camera was being funky in here. Forgive the spots. The plastic you see on the floor is to protect the carpet from the maintenance work being done. Apparently there has been some water damage.

It hasn't changed much since the movie Rudy. If you want a good look at it, watch that movie. I think it would have been funny if someone stood on a bucket and gave that coach's monologue that Rudy loved so much.

("whatever we say here, whatever we see here, STAYS HERE when we leave here")
Coach's mantra?

You said this would be fun, Mom. Why do I have to stand here and wait for so long while some guy tells us what is what?

Start 'em young, I always say. Start 'em young.

The sign that the players see on their way out.

Down the stairs to the tunnel, standing by the sign the players hit on their way out. Too bad it hasn't helped them win a championship lately.

Yep, this is the tunnel the players run out of. Pretty fun.

No one, not even the older MBA students could stand still on such an expansive field.

Pretty soon people were breaking out the footballs and taking test runs.

And, for such short grass, it was remarkably soft. I tell you what, those athletes are spoiled! (These days, I'm all about pointing out the things no one knows. You're welcome.)

We had to get a picture in front of the scoreboard. Yes, I have a weird expression on my face. Everyone else looks fine. It was a beautiful day!

Up there, on the right. . .that's where they had lunch and heard Digger Phelps. The view was pretty nice.

You see this as soon as you exit the stadium. People call it "Touchdown Jesus." I wonder how many prayers people have offered for the football team after seeing this mural.

Well, that's about it. And here you thought it was never going to end, didn't you? Stay tuned until next time. . .when I chronicle a diaper change.

Bear Bear Bear

Everett was never one to get too attached to one certain blanket or animal. He would go through phases where he'd want anything and everything he could think of in his bed, but though I tried to get him excited about a companion stuffed animal, it never took.

It must be a genetic thing. That is the only way I can explain Ashley's affinity for stuffed animals of any kind. Remember Everett's giant stuffed doggie his softie of a father got for him last summer? Ashley giggles and giggles every time we bring that out. Then she goes over and buries her face in its fur and makes lots of loud happy noises into the stuffing.

So, lately I've decided to give her a bear to sleep with every night. This bear was originally given to Everett, but it is big and soft and I knew she would really take to it. Let's be honest, though; she'd take to anything.

Now when I give her the bear (say the name three times quickly and she'll go find it--it's like magic), I think she'd jump for joy if she could. When she sleeps with the bear, she'll wrap her arms and legs around it and bury her face in its fur somewhere. Often when she wakes up from her nap, I find her talking to the bear and getting in a few more snuggles.






She will forgo her pacifier for the bear's ear.





No matter how deeply she's sleeping, she'll always have hold of it.




It's fun to toss around. . .




And fun to yell into. . .




It's an all-around good time whenever the bear is near. Thanks, Grandma Johnson! Everett loved it and now Ashley loves it too.

Excited/Campus Tour

Joel is in the midst of his orientation this week. Yesterday, he met the members of his team for the summer. Today they're doing some sort of service project, I believe. Tomorrow night is bowling night for the MBA students and their families, complete with free beer (yee haw!). And Friday. . .well, Friday is going to be awesome.

We get to go to inside the stadium and listen to Digger Phelps talk to us. I don't know what he's going to talk about, but I'm sure it will be entertaining. Also, it will be mighty fun to actually be able to run around on the football field. If I forget my camera that day, I just know I'll forever be in the depths of despair (name that movie).

I suppose now is as good a time as any to show some of what campus looks like. If only I was more than an amateur photographer! My pictures don't really do it justice.

First, the walk to campus:

I was sad to leave Reston and all the trees, but then I got a good look at this:

After you come through here, you walk into a huge field of beautiful, green, fluffy-topped, waving grass. When I see it, I think of two things: 1) a frolicking Bambi, and 2) snakes. The second is the reason I will never set a toenail in that field, no matter how beautiful it is. If my kids run in there, I'm going home. They're on their own.

Let's see. Then you get to walk past this cute, well-kept little cemetery. I haven't gone to see who's in here or how old the graves are yet, but it is on my to-do list.

THEN, you veer left to go through yet another wooded path.

This ends up going between two beautiful tree-lined lakes. I was too caught up in the gloriousness of it all to take a picture (or, you know, I just forgot.)

Then you pass the grotto with all the lit candles, and you come up on the golden dome and the Basilica of the Sacred Heart. Just remember the amateur photography disclaimer, and realize that they are more impressive than they look here.

(What it looks like from elsewhere on campus. That other tower is the steeple to the Basilica)


Back of the Basilica. This is when I fell in love with the architecture of the buildings here. Looking at this made me feel I was somewhere far, far away from northern Indiana.

Side entrance, minus the top.

Then, to get to Joel's building, you have to walk across campus toward th e stadium. On the way, you see a whole bunch of beautiful buildings.

I think the one on the right is actually a dormitory. Many of the dormitories have banners that say something like "Dillon Hall: The strongest, the smartest, and the humblest since 1931." No joke.


Doesn't this remind you of a castle?




Most of the buildings have stone figures toward the top, which I believe are various Saints (correct me if I'm wrong).


(hall of engineering, it says)

And the stonework on these buildings is amazing, down to the smallest detail.






When you get to the stadium, you know you're almost to Joel's building, which is right across from it. No, I didn't get a picture, though it does have some fun features.



I did think this is cool, though. It is a very old trading post from the New York Stock Exchange. Aren't those fold-down seats fun? This was sitting in the atrium of Joel's building.

Aaaand. . .that's about it. There are some really interesting buildings I didn't take pictures of, but I figure that no one really cares that much. This is a beautiful campus, and it is fun to be able to explore it a little.

Pitter Patter

On the week that Joel didn't want to take Ashley during the third hour of church, she took her first steps. Animal crackers were her draw, and she'd take four or five steps to get to them. She's been standing on her own for ages, and though I haven't tried to push it, it has been fun to anticipate her being able to walk.

Yes, that's right. Give us a couple of weeks and we'll have a full-on walker. Cupboards, beware!

Time

I can't believe it's already Saturday! We have been busy, busy, busy around here. This is why:

We unpacked and organized all of our stuff.
We made several trips to Wal-mart to get some essentials (I have never been so excited to get a two-dollar trash can in my life.)
We managed to fit everything we own in 500 square feet of living space plus a small storage closet.
We walked up to campus, ogled all the buildings, and browsed the UND paraphernalia in the bookstore.
We have spent every spare moment out on the many slides, tricycles, and swings that are right out our door.
I got locked out of the apartment with the kids still inside screaming and so was able to test out the efficiency of the rectors.
I tested out our community center's exercise room, and got to "do stairs" and "ride a bike" for 6 miles, all while Everett was tuned into his own TV and playing with the toys they have there.
I visited our local Farmer's Market early this morning and had a great time talking with the vendors and selecting little plants to put in our garden.
We helped out in our community strawberry patch.
We signed up for, weeded, tilled (by hand), hoe-d, and planted in a 200 square foot garden. More seeds to go in on Monday as soon as they are ready to plant.

Whew! I guess that's why time has gone so fast. Sometimes I don't feel very busy when I stay home all day with the kids, so it is nice to have a lot of things to get done. Our garden will take up quite a bit of time, but Everett really enjoys playing around in the dirt, and Ashley certainly doesn't mind how it tastes.

I did show Everett various bugs and holding them in my hands so he could see them better. He was weirded out and didn't want anything to do with them unless he could see them on his own terms, in his own way. He spent most of his time in the garden calling out to me whenever he saw one crawling around in the dirt. When it inevitably disappeared, he would try to poke around and figure out exactly where it went.

Highlight of gardening for Everett? Bugs, the water hose, and putting the plants in the holes.
Lows of gardening? Having to stay near mom and seeing her get frustrated when he thinks it is a good idea to either move as s l o w l y as molasses when she asks him to listen to her, or run away wildy.

Highlight for Elise? Knowing we'll soon have many vegetables, including: cherry tomatoes, regular tomatoes, bell peppers, peas, beans, carrots, and basil, rosemary, green onions, and cilantro. Yum!
Lows for Elise? None yet, but get back to me when the weeding happens.


So, not that you asked, but that is what we've been up to. Tomorrow we're going to our South Bend ward at 11:30. We've already met some of the ward members who live here, and we're excited to meet more.

Another Difference Between (most) Boys and Girls

Joel and I had a lot of time to talk yesterday as we were finishing our drive to South Bend. Somehow, we got onto the subject of how growing up we had lists of qualities we desired in our future spouse.

All of you who went to Young Women's (or were a normal teenage girl)--do you remember doing this? I do, many times. Our lists were always very long and always included things like "he has to be romantic" or "he has to do nice things for me", in addition to all the regular qualities we might have listed. Had we focused more on improving our own qualities, we might not have wasted so much time drawing up lists of "the perfect" man.

I asked Joel what he might have put on a list growing up, and he told me that he had, in fact, made a list, but that he could only remember four out of the five things.

"Five? You only had five?" I asked.

"Sure. Why not? What more would you want?" He said.

These were the ones he remembered, ranked from most to least important:

1) She cooks
2) She doesn't have hairy arms
3) She is shorter than him
4) She is somewhat athletically inclined (notice he only said "somewhat"--maybe this means he never wanted to be beat?)

I laughed. I laughed quite hard.

"Hairy arms?" I said. "Who says that? When did you make this list, when you were twelve?"

Joel chuckled, admitting proudly, "Nope. I actually made that list on my mission."

"Well, what about cooking? That's number one? Out of everything?"

"I don't want to cook" he shrugged.

I rolled my eyes, and wondered if there was a job I could get him to do in exchange, since apparently I am doing his least favorite. But something else was killing me. I had to ask, "What about all those other things? Temple marriage? Good-looking? Female?"

"Those are givens," he clarified smugly. "They didn't even need to be on the list."

And that ended our conversation, leaving me to wonder whether he wasn't very picky about the qualities he wanted in a wife, or if he didn't feel that he needed to qualify all of that before he met me. I think it is the latter, which makes me glad because had he been more specific, I might have been disqualified away.

Later that night, we were looking at something sweet a child had written about cooking. The accuracy was off by quite a bit, but it was charming and fun. Or so I thought.

"Look!" I exclaimed. "Isn't that cute?"

"No." Joel said, in a single, punctuated syllable.

After my guffawing, I realized that he was so upfront about it more because he wasn't trying to be diplomatic, and less because he really didn't think it was cute. But I teased him for it anyway.

This conversation made me remember a similar conversation we had had earlier in the car, when I asked Joel what he thought the biggest difference between the two of us was. (Hey, we had a lot of time, and I didn't feel bad about subjecting him to any and all questions I had. Try it sometime. It's quite fun, and if you're in a car together, there's no escape.)

"I say what I mean, and you only think it." He said concisely.

And there, I think, he perfectly described one of the biggest differences between us. After a little laughing, all I had to add was a few words of agreement.

And all I have to add now is my gladness that he is different than me, and especially that we balance one another out so evenly. That is, until the next time I feel the need to have a little fun at his expense. . .

Off the Road Again

Not that you're all waiting with bated breath, but. . .

WE'RE HERE!


Indiana, we're excited to know you.

Checklist from the last two days:

• get carpets in our old apartment cleaned
• get Everett a giant sticker book, with 600 stickers of animals, averaging one per mile. We figured that would last him.
• make our last trip to Trader Joe's for some in-car snacks (including fresh blackberries. . .yum!)
• Discover Beaver Valley, PA. We stopped for gas and found a gem of a city park, complete with extensive playground. I don't know who was happier to see it--me or Everett.
• Stay in an awesome Holiday Inn. It had a huge indoor playground area and pool. Can you say rejuvenation?
• Sleep in until 8:30am because the curtains kept out all the sun.
• Discover the wonder of a child old enough to sleep in a strange hotel bed all by himself across the room.
  
• Took notice that it didn't take us very long to meet a few of our neighbors, and that one even offered us two air mattresses and a crib mattress so we have something to sleep on.
• Watched as Joel almost started doing back flips when he discovered that he now has access to ESPN 360, and that the cable we get also includes ESPN.

Tomorrow we're going to explore campus. Joel wanted me to wait to post until we have pictures of the golden dome, but I told him that the sooner he learns I'm the boss, the better.

Oh, and one more thing for the checklist:

Joel is already taking note of our neighbor's athletic inclinations. I just heard him describe seeing tennis rackets on the wall of one of our ward members. I give him a month before he sets up a tennis match!

Bonus Points. . .

To anyone who can correctly identify the reason Joel's shirt says "kryptonate" as opposed to "kryptonite".

The Last Fun OR An Exercise in Restraint

Today, in a last-ditch effort to spend some quality time before Joel, the kids, and I leave for Indiana, we went to a fun park with Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Maddy, and Uncle Nick.

The kids were thrilled to be running around, and we had a lot of fun at a really fantastic park. Really, if you're anywhere near DC, Cabin John park is a great place to go.

The slide was a hit, as always.





The swings were a hit for Ashley, as always.





Obviously Aunt Maddy was a hit, as always.

Don't you think she and Ashley look a lot alike?

And, Everett got plenty of opportunities to practice turn-taking and patience. I'm sure he saw it exactly that way, as well.

First, things are going smoothly and everyone is having fun.


Yep. Lots of fun here.

Then, and you never know who starts the crowding and grabbing and the it's-my-turn-to-touch-that-random-thing-and-so-you'd-better-keep-your-arm-20-feet-away-please attitude, but it gets started. You all know how it goes.

And then starts the subtle maybe-mom-won't-notice pushing.

After a quick intervention, preferably before emotions run high. . .



. . .one person gives and reluctantly shares.


And soon everyone is having fun again.

End the day with a ride on a small train, and some people are in absolute heaven. I have said this more times than anyone cares to hear, but we'll sure miss DC!

Nostalgia

We passed our final inspection on the apartment today.

I looked around and was hit with a little sadness at leaving this place. It's been very good to us.
(But our downstairs neighbor will surely be happy to not hear toddler feet above his head all day long.)

I loved how light and open it is with the huge windows.

And noise aside, the wood really warms up the room.


But the best part? The kitchen. I look at the island counter in here and am flooded by memories of Everett and me cooking together. . .him on one side, me on the other.

Forgive the blurry and darkened picture. It really is an open, airy, light kitchen, and it was very pleasant to be in. We've made some good memories, but thankfully I know we're about to make a bunch more.