(no subject)

There was some speculation by one asshat pediatrician that StY was possibly premature but large, due to undiagnosed gestational diabetes, because he wasn't on The Baby Schedule. I had two babies in the space of a year. StE was "My big boy," whom we challenged and asked things of, gave responsibility, treated always a little "older" than he was. And he thrived on it. I don't think it was entirely our fault. He was a serious little dude from go, earnest and dedicated to doing well. So he took a lot on himself. We were distracted, we let him.

StY was a butterfly, a puppy, just glad to be here. He was "My baby," and we treated him that way, not asking much of him, playing baby games rather than holding serious conversation about the structure and purpose of toes while putting on his socks. As., alas yes, we had done with the first one.

At seven months StY was diagnosed in the 40th percentile developmentally. He was underweight, but that was due to digestive problems, we were handling that, and he wasn't dangerously thin. But his lack of social and mental development scared us and made us see how little stimulating play he'd been getting.

And that very week, the daycare took the kids outside. There was a towheaded little boy in brown pants and blue sweater I took for our StE running around and climbing. And then I saw this little guy, tiny really, compared to all the other kids, over at the side of the yard, completely overwhelmed and intimidated and unsure how to join in. He was swaying on his feet he was so scared. He wasn't more than a baby.

So, the double-guilt whammy in one week. We adjusted our thinking, as much as StE would let us. He never wanted to be babied, he was ready to be a year older than he was, whatever age he was. Well, until he hit adulthood, and then he beat himself up for not enjoying his childhood, but what can you do? "I told you so" just doesn't have that triumphant ring in that situation. But we upped our expectations of StY, and frankly? He didn't care. He persisted in being on his own schedule till--well, now. He made a lot of mistakes, but you know what? He's had more fun than his brother and his parents along the way, so who's to say who was right?

(no subject)

There was some speculation by one asshat pediatrician that StY was possibly premature but large, due to undiagnosed gestational diabetes, because he wasn't on The Baby Schedule. I had two babies in the space of a year. StE was "My big boy," whom we challenged and asked things of, gave responsibility, treated always a little "older" than he was. And he thrived on it. I don't think it was entirely our fault. He was a serious little dude from go, earnest and dedicated to doing well. So he took a lot on himself. We were distracted, we let him.

StY was a butterfly, a puppy, just glad to be here. He was "My baby," and we treated him that way, not asking much of him, playing baby games rather than holding serious conversation about the structure and purpose of toes while putting on his socks. As., alas yes, we had done with the first one.

At seven months StY was diagnosed in the 40th percentile developmentally. He was underweight, but that was due to digestive problems, we were handling that, and he wasn't dangerously thin. But his lack of social and mental development scared us and made us see how little stimulating play he'd been getting.

And that very week, the daycare took the kids outside. There was a towheaded little boy in brown pants and blue sweater I took for our StE running around and climbing. And then I saw this little guy, tiny really, compared to all the other kids, over at the side of the yard, completely overwhelmed and intimidated and unsure how to join in. He was swaying on his feet he was so scared. He wasn't more than a baby.

So, the double-guilt whammy in one week. We adjusted our thinking, as much as StE would let us. He never wanted to be babied, he was ready to be a year older than he was, whatever age he was. Well, until he hit adulthood, and then he beat himself up for not enjoying his childhood, but what can you do? "I told you so" just doesn't have that triumphant ring in that situation. But we upped our expectations of StY, and frankly? He didn't care. He persisted in being on his own schedule till--well, now. He made a lot of mistakes, but you know what? He's had more fun than his brother and his parents along the way, so who's to say who was right?

(no subject)

I had an odd dream this morning. Very vivid. It was dark, and there was a cat on the deck. It's been warm lately, so as we do when it's warm, we'd raised the glass panel on the storm door to let the breeze in through the screen. And our cat's footstool was by the door where he likes to sit and sniff the breeze, taunt the birds, and bask in the sun. He doesn't take well to other cats being on the deck, so I went out to shoo the other cat away. I caught sight of TC streaking past me. He never goes outside, so I bent and scooped him up. But when I got back inside I realized there had been two other cats out there, and I'd scooped up one of the strangers. TC was gone.

Not a big deal, ordinarily. But TC's a feral rescue, he's never been outdoors since he was trapped, and never here, and he's deathly afraid of strange humans. He's also missing a leg. So finding him wasn't going to be as simple as rattling a Pounce can and calling, "Kitty, kitty, kitty."

I was distraught, and ready to mount a search, mobilize the neighbors, put up flyers. But before I could start, we learned that two little boys up the street had gone missing. So I had to put my feelings for TC aside and join the effort to find the boys. On one hand I didn't hesitate for a minute. On the other hand I resented the time I wasn't looking for TC, and the worry for him was chittering at me beneath the surface.

(no subject)

I had an odd dream this morning. Very vivid. It was dark, and there was a cat on the deck. It's been warm lately, so as we do when it's warm, we'd raised the glass panel on the storm door to let the breeze in through the screen. And our cat's footstool was by the door where he likes to sit and sniff the breeze, taunt the birds, and bask in the sun. He doesn't take well to other cats being on the deck, so I went out to shoo the other cat away. I caught sight of TC streaking past me. He never goes outside, so I bent and scooped him up. But when I got back inside I realized there had been two other cats out there, and I'd scooped up one of the strangers. TC was gone.

Not a big deal, ordinarily. But TC's a feral rescue, he's never been outdoors since he was trapped, and never here, and he's deathly afraid of strange humans. He's also missing a leg. So finding him wasn't going to be as simple as rattling a Pounce can and calling, "Kitty, kitty, kitty."

I was distraught, and ready to mount a search, mobilize the neighbors, put up flyers. But before I could start, we learned that two little boys up the street had gone missing. So I had to put my feelings for TC aside and join the effort to find the boys. On one hand I didn't hesitate for a minute. On the other hand I resented the time I wasn't looking for TC, and the worry for him was chittering at me beneath the surface.

Stolen from DXMachina

( actor-role meme )

Stolen from DXMachina

( actor-role meme )