Sleep Regression. Help.

Ian hates sleep.  Every kind of sleep -- naptime sleep, bedtime sleep, 4:00 am sleep, car sleep.  Lindsay (the nanny) fights with him all day to get him to stay down long enough for his naps.  I fight with him all night to stay asleep more than an hour and a half at a time.  Needless to say, Lindsay is probably ridiculously frustrated and I am definitely ridiculously sleep deprived.

It wasn't always this way.  I have a very clear memory of staying up until 2:00am with our friends one night when Ian was about 8 weeks old.  That's laughable now. 

I am in unfamiliar territory here.  Joe was a huge napper, and from like 10 weeks old was sleeping 10 hours at a time.  We may have had some sort of sleep problem with him around this age that I just don't remember (it's funny what you forget), but all I remember about Joe is that he loved sleep from the very beginning.

So, those of you with kids who hate sleep, please give me any advice you have.  I vaguely remember a couple of you mentioning that your kids had sleep regression at similar ages (my whole life is sort of a fog right now).  Is this is a phase or a character trait?  Is there anything I can do to keep him down longer that I'm not already doing?  He's still eating three times a night on bad nights, and twice on good nights.  Is this a breastfed baby thing I can't avoid?  We start rice cereal soon, but I hear it's a wives tale that that will help.  But tell me your experience.

I will try anything.  I need SLEEP!

Some Bad Behavior and an Almost-Milestone

I'm going back to work tomorrow.  Did I have any intention of disciplining my kids in any way today?  No.  Did Joe realize this about 5 minutes after the nanny left for the day?  Yes.

 

You can't see his target: it's Ian.  Sigh. 

But check it out.  Ian is almost rolling over one way!  A big step in baby world.  Since I probably won't be around to catch his first time rolling all the way, I figured this almost roll-over would suffice.   Go Ian!

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho

Tomorrow is my last day of maternity leave before I have to go back to work.  Ian will be four months old -- a seriously great maternity leave, right?  My mom took 6 weeks with me.  But, even with such a long leave, time flies.  I feel like I was just a couple days ago I was getting my work self organized to take all that time off.

People keep asking how I feel about going back.  And truthfully, I have no idea how to answer this question, because I don't really know how I feel about it.  And my feelings on the matter change daily, hourly, minutely.  Am I excited to go back?  Definitely not.  But I'm also not completely dreading it, either.  Thus, the typical, endless struggle with working mom guilt begins again.

Here are the two sides of the coin.  The "going back is going to be horribly sad and I'm dreading it completely" side:  I love my children.  Seriously, love them.  I love being involved in their lives the way I've been able to while I was on leave - being the face Ian sees when he wakes up from his naps, and getting to pick Joe up at school every day.  I love having the control over their days that I won't have when the nanny is there all day instead of me.  I love being able to stop Joe mid-sprint and give him a huge kiss on the cheek.  But most of all, I love that they know I'm there for them whenever they need me.

The "seriously, I really need to get the heck out of this house" side:  Staying at home drives me a little nuts.  I don't love that my biggest activity for the day is taking a shower (eh-hem, when that even happens), and I don't love that my biggest contribution to the world is making sure that the laundry is done and the bathroom is clean.  I went to law school, for goodness sake.  We have the monthly loan payments to prove it.  So, I am excited to be back among the land of the living, where no one knows the names of all of Handy Manny's tools and very few can recite every word of The Belly Button Book.  Where I can use my brain and my skills and help people.  Not to mention that it will be nice to actually put on cute clothes again every day (once they start fitting again).

I think everyone who knows me would tell you that I wouldn't be happy not working.  I'm not convinced that this is completely true, but I am convinced that I will never know if it's completely true.  I'm coming to the realization that I'll probably always work, and that by the time we can afford to give our kids the life we want without my salary, they will be old enough to be at school all day anyway.

But all of this is really beside the point.  I am going back to work, and I will continue to work for the foreseeable future, for one big huge fat reason that will never go away, no matter how much money we have and no matter how old the boys get.  I'm going to work because I want to be the best possible role model for my boys.  What better way to teach them to respect women as equal to men (which, seriously, a depressing number of men truly do, even these days...what does it say about my fellow lawyers that that the "dumb blonde" card is the easiest one for me to play to get my way?) than to have a mom with a great career?  My mom had a stellar career for my entire memory, so it never occurred to me, or to my siblings, that women shouldn't be entitled to have every single opportunity that they are willing to go for.  Being a working mom isn't the only way to instill this lesson, of course, but it sure is an easy way.

The key, as they all say, is balance.  My mom may have had an intense career, but she was home for dinner every night and was with us all weekend.  She went to all of our soccer games, football games, baseball games, dance recitals, piano recitals, and on and on and on.  All of us knew that we were way more important to her than her job--but, inexplicably, we also knew that her job was part of what made her her.  She loved going to work and kicking butts all day, just as much as she loved curling up on the couch in her comfies with her latest romance novel (sorry for outing you, Mom).  

So that's my new goal.  Letting my kids know that they are the loves of my life, but that they aren't my entire world.  Trying to tread that fine line between neglecting the kids for work or neglecting work for the kids.  I think I can do it, with the help of my ridiculously understanding husband and my sainted nanny.  And a lot of wine.

Mustaches Mustaches Everywhere

Hello dear friends and fam.  I hope you have your charitable panties on today, cause it's time to bust out the cash in support of a great cause!

Ever heard of Movember?  It's prostate cancer's answer to October breast cancer awareness activities -- except instead of adopting a bright girly color and auctioning off random players' NFL gear, Movember is about growing as intense of a mustache as possible, and getting donations from friends and family for doing it.  Probably explains why you've been seeing all those young men around town sporting some super sexy prepubescent-looking mustaches, yes?

Well.   One of my oldest and dearest friends is accepting donations in her son's name for their family friend's Movember team.  Thatcher, her son, will donate a penny to prostate cancer research  for every pageview that my friend's blog gets (just click here! it's that easy!).  And for every donation received directly through their site, my friend will wear a mustache around town for the day!  So please, get into the pre-holiday holiday spirit and donate for a great cause.  Cause even though they drive us insane sometimes (okay, most of the time), we want our men to stick around as long as possible, right?  To kill the spiders in the bathtub, if nothing else.

So come on, don't be lame.  Help out a good cause.  Click here to donate through my friend's site...and remember, just clicking the link is a help!

Maybe Don't Read This if You're Politically Inclined

Time for a non-speech related update about Joe's speech therapy.  I debated not writing about this issue since it can be kind of sensitive to some, but I'm selfish and it will help me to know that other people out there are aware of what we're dealing with on this one.

It probably won't come as a shock to you that private speech therapy lessons aren't free - in fact, they are pretty absurdly expensive.  The reason Joe and I drive all the way up to 635 and Hillcrest twice a week for two 25 minute speech classes is that the office up there is the closest one that accepts our insurance.

To back up a bit.  Back in August, we got Joe's hearing tested by a pediatric ENT.  Joe's hearing was fine, thank goodness, but the ENT was adamant that we get him in speech therapy, like, yesterday.  The ENT's lecture to me was the kick in the pants I needed that instigated the original blog post about speech therapy.  Anyway, the ENT told us that we had two options for speech therapy for Joe.  Private speech classes, which is expensive but more often than not covered by insurance (according to this guy) or Early Childhood Intervention (better known to some of you as ECI).  ECI is a state-sponsored program where a person comes to your house to evaluate, and later treat, your kid for developmental delays, including speech therapy.  This service is a ridiculously good benefit of living in Texas.  The ENT we used, however, made the point that ECI is sort of a 50/50 proposition.  Since it's free, and state sponsored, you don't always know what kind of help you're going to be getting.  He was adamant that there are plenty of highly qualified speech therapists working for ECI - but he was just as adamant that there are plenty of less qualified speech therapists working for ECI.  You're sort of rolling the dice.  He suggested we at least investigate our private therapist options before committing to ECI. 

So, right after the good news that Joe's hearing was fine, I called our insurance company to make sure that speech delay was covered by our insurance policy (assuming that we met all of the red tape requirements associated with filing a claim).  The lady I spoke with on the phone assured me that speech therapy for speech delay would be covered by our policy if speech therapy was determined to be "medically necessary."  So, I scheduled an evaluation of Joe at the speech therapist's office.  At the same time, I called ECI to see if we could get on their schedule for an evaluation.  They told me that the earliest they could have anyone contact me (contact me, not come out to evaluate Joe) was seven business days from my phone call.  Yikes.  Seven business days is not much in the grand scheme of things, of course, but to me it was sort of indicative of the whole "state-sponsored" quality of service we'd be getting.

After Joe's evaluation at the private speech therapist, he fell into the "severe speech delay" category of their magic evaluation tools.  Which makes sense, since he was completely silent 99% of the time at that point in his development.  Actually, to quote the letter the speech therapist sent to the insurance agency:  "Joe presents with a severe expressive language disorder...that will not likely correct on its own."  (By the way, I'm not naive enough to be ignorant of the fact that the speech therapist has an incentive to write these kinds of reports so that they can get clients whose appointments are paid for by insurance.  But try using that kind of logic when it's your own kid's development at stake.)

So we started with the private speech therapist.  Unfortunately, it takes them about a month to get their evaluation written, sent off to the insurance company, processed by the insurance company, and responded to by the insurance company.  They assured us, though, that almost no one with Joe's level of speech delay gets denied coverage.  So, we agreed to pay the speech therapist out-of-pocket for each appointment during that month while everything was getting processed, and the speech therapist agreed to reimburse us everything we'd paid out-of-pocket once the insurance company approved coverage.   Joe started speech classes with Kristen, and as you know from being a loyal blog follower, he thrived under her tutelage.

I'm sure you can see where this is going.  Six weeks into speech classes, we got the news that the insurance company had denied our claim.  "No worries," says the speech therapist, "we'll appeal the decision to the insurance company and they'll probably cover you.  Just get a letter of medical necessity from Joe's pediatrician, and send it on over."  Okay, no problem.

We head to the pediatrician for a consult about this letter of medical necessity.  The doctor asks me a stock list of questions about his speech development -- which basically comes down to "how many words can he say."  I was honest (stupid me.), and said that as of that time, after about 7 weeks of speech therapy, he could say about 30 words.  The doctor looked at me like I was the biggest idiot and the most paranoid, over-involved mom to ever walk into his office, and said, "Well, then he's on track.  He doesn't need speech therapy for speech delay."  ...seriously?  So no letter of medical necessity from him.

So, to recap: Joe isn't talking, so, according to several different and disinterested medical professionals, he needs speech therapy.  Speech therapist evaluates and agrees that speech therapy is necessary.  Insurance claim takes time to process, so Joe starts classes before coverage is guaranteed.  By the time coverage is denied, Joe has been doing so well with speech therapy that he is now on track to meet his two year old speech-related milestones.  So the doctor won't write the letter of medical necessity, which means the speech therapist can't appeal the denial of coverage, which means that John and I continue to pay the ridiculously exorbitant out-of-pocket cost to the speech therapist.   The conspiracy theorist in me thinks that maybe the insurance company knows that this is the typical order of things, and knows this exact situation will happen in a lot of cases because speech therapy can be so helpful to kids like Joe.

Of course, the reason John and I agreed to pay out-of-pocket in the first place is that we are very, very on board with how important these speech classes are to Joe.  At first, this may have been just blind hope in the process, but now the results have been so great (and continue to be so great) that the importance and success of these class is impossible to deny.

So we are left with two poor options.  Either we continue to pay almost every cent of our truly disposable income (seriously) to the speech therapist every month, or we sign up for the free state-sponsored ECI services.  Which, of course, also entails pulling Joe out of classes at the place where he is currently thriving, with a teacher that he has clearly bonded with (and as you know, Joe doesn't bond that easily to grown ups).  And entails rolling the dice on getting someone who may not be as good, and therefore may not be as helpful to Joe. 

For me and John, the choice is clear.  Our kids are the most important thing in the world to us - more important than wine to John (I know, right?!) and more important than shoes, clothes, and vacations to me.  We are fortunate enough to be in a financial situation that even allows us to have the option to pay for private speech therapy.  Making the sacrifices for Joe is the easy part.

But my main question, and the reason I've been hesitant to post our experience in this area, is: WHY?  Why is this the way our whole insurance situation in this country works?  I can assure you I'm neither right wing nor left wing, and in fact I'm pretty politically ambiguous, so please don't think I'm making this a political matter.  But our experience with Joe's speech therapy has just been a shining example to me of how our insurance situation is broken.  The state obviously recognizes that these developmental delays are an important enough issue that they offer free services to anyone to help fix them (which I know is something that plenty of people will think is a waste of state money in the first place, but again, that's a political issue that is neither here nor there to my checkbook).  The insurance company, on the other hand, to whom I pay a ton of money every year in premiums, does not acknowledge that this kind of developmental delay is worthy of their help paying for, even though I pay the insurance company money so that they willhelp me pay for things like this.

Ignoring all the political rhetoric: I pay loads of money to the insurance company so that they will help me pay for the really expensive healthcare stuff that will come up with me and my family.  Joe's speech delay is, according to two pediatricians, a pediatric ENT, and a speech therapist, a severe developmental issue.  So please fill me in, Aetna: what exactly am I paying you premiums for?  Thank you for helping pay for Ian (helping to pay, let's be clear, not paying) but how about next year, when I don't have a baby and, God willing, everyone remains relatively healthy?

Healthcare and insurance are broken.  Someone has to fix them.  Please do it soon so that I can retire before I'm 95.

Halloween Pt. III: Adventures in Last Minute Costume Design

If you've read any of my previous posts about Joe, you know that he's a pretty timid kid.  He doesn't really love new adventures, or toys, or sounds, or words, or really anything.  It's usually a pretty endearing trait, but there is one time it's just plain annoying (sorry Joe): Halloween.

I ordered Joe's Halloween costume at least two months ago.  Because I'm the kind of person that if I don't do things super early, I will always put them off to the very last minute and make them into a mini-disaster.  I'm especially infamous at this with Halloween costumes, where I virtually always go as something that can be cobbled together at the last minute from stuff in the house.  So it truly was a big win for me that I was so on top of ordering this stupid knight costume.

Anyway.   Costume came on time, we made sure it fit and that Joe didn't hate it (which he didn't, three weeks ago) - everything was dandy.  But, of course, right at go-time this morning, he decided that he wasn't going to wear the costume to school unless he also got to bawl uncontrollably the whole time.  I tried all my awesome parenting tricks - soothing, cajoling, bribing, demanding...all to no avail.  Hate to admit it, but I seriously considered sending him to preschool and making the teachers deal with this situation.  They are the pros, right??  But I guess preschool teachers are right up there with mailmen, trashmen, and the like--they really are people who you really don't want to hate you cause they can truly mess with your life.  I gave up and let Joe win that round.

So we bailed on the knight costume.  John stayed home for an extra hour and a half this morning to help me scavenge the house for a last minute costume that Joe could wear to preschool.  Cause who wants to be the only kid at preschool without a costume!!  Since he won't wear hats or anything on his head, makeup of any kind, or anything at all scratchy, we were severely limited in our scrounging options.   In his infinite wisdom, John thought of a monk costume - so he cut up a brown crib sheet, tied a piece of white fabric cut from one of his shirts around the waist, and voila.  Joe accepted this costume, and eventually even learned to like it, but there was no lack of tears throughout the process.  Needless to say, I was beaten down by Halloween by 9:00 this morning.

Later, when we had more time to discuss, John and I decided that trick-or-treating would be a terrible experience unless we came up with some costume that Joe would be willing to wear.  Which basically meant that we had to fool Joe into thinking he wasn't wearing a costume at all.  More severely limited options.  After some rummaging through our costume stuff (we have a lot), a couple of quick trips to Wal-Mart and Babies R Us,  and a minor breakdown on my part (special thanks to the hubster for talking me off that ledge), we came up with his "rockstar" costume.  Actually, I'll credit John 100% with the idea, and me 100% with the implementation.  Teamwork: the key to somewhat successful parenting without attempting to gouge out your own eyes out in the process.

The best part of the new costume: Ian had a coordinating one!  He played the part of the lazy band member that everyone wants to kick out but doesn't want to hurt his feelings (that basically means that he just hung out in the bjorn while Joe did all the work). 

Can you tell that it's harder to get Ian to STOP smiling than it is to get him to smile?  That kid is gonna be a serious charmer.  

In the end, after all the drama, Halloween 2011 was a pretty big success.  Everyone loved Joe's costume - one lady even singled him out of a crowd to take his picture - and it didn't take Joe too long to realize that this whole trick-or-treating thing might be a pretty good deal for him.  Everyone loved Ian too because, well, he's adorable.  So, first stressful event of the holiday season behind us.  Next stop: Thanksgiving.

Halloween Pt. II: A Trip Down Halloween Memory Lane

Halloween!  Everyone's favorite non-religious, non-day-off-work, not-truly-a-holiday holiday.   Also one of those holidays that separates the grinches from the holiday nerds. 

I think the most lasting lesson that John has taken from college is that the importance of going all-out on Halloween costumes.  Every year, he spends literally months planning his costume, down to the smallest detail.  Being married to him, he, of course, expects me to follow suit in this level of costume design.  I'm no grinch, so I give it the old college try (pun totally intended.  har har.), but his costumes are consistently way better than mine.  And honestly, probably better than yours, too.

You know how dads always have something that they've been desperately waiting to teach their kids?  Like, a lot of guys are so anxious to play catch with their sons that they buy them baseball gloves for their first Christmas even though their little baby hands can't even grab the binky yet?  Well, for John, the thing he's been desperately waiting to teach Joe and Ian is how to truly own a costume.

So, in honor of Ian's first Halloween, Joe's first trick-or-treating Halloween, and John's first true opportunity to impart this lifelong lesson, here is a trip down memory lane for some Halloween's past.

2011

Reverse chronological order makes sense, so let's start with this year's costume.  Nascar fan, complete with a mostly gone six pack of Bud.  Can you see the koozie?  It's a 3D deer koozie.  There is seriously a deer with antlers sticking out of the side.  The mustache was intricately fine-tuned to the perfect level of, eh-hem, trashiness.  All in all, a pretty great costume.  It actually won him $150 and a free happy hour at his work costume contest, so I call that a win.

2010

 I hijacked Joe's outfit last year, which is why this year is John's first teaching opportunity.  Cute, right?  He hated it.  This smile is fake.

2009

The year before Joe was born:  Malibu's Most Wanted.  I wish I could say that the shirt was part of the costume, but that's actually a real live Texas State Fair purchase.  I think he really sells this one with the look on his face. 

Have to say, I don't think I did too that year bad either - I was the pregnant Kardashian.  Thrown together, but the actual baby in there helped.

2008

 Halloween 2008: Larry Byrd.  The "mustache" is real, or as real as John will ever be able to grow it.  Too bad this picture doesn't capture the socks that had been hand-colored with green permanent marker to look like basketball socks, and a pair of old school Converse.

2007

This time, the mustache is supplemented with marker, or makeup, or something.  Anyway, he's that guy from The Big Lebowski, you know, the Vietnam one?  His name escapes me at this moment...Walter Sobchak, John tells me.  Either way, I think Daniel steals the show here, because that is a true blue sweater straight from his dad's closet.

Not a Halloween picture.

Those are as far back as my Halloween pictures go, but here's one more random costume for good measure.  Law school 80s party.  Why?  I don't remember, but there was probably a good reason at the time.  

So there you go.  Joe and Ian will learn from the master.