Red-haired Boy

Nothing like a reality check before Tyoma's evaluation. Keeping in line with my decision to keep tyoma as active as possible i have been going out with him twice a day. Our morning was outstanding. We started off with a trip to Market Basket. He was jolly and mischievous, taking great pleasure in pushing over cereal boxes and crying "Cutooze!" No fussing or whining for souska. We spent several minutes weighing fruits and veggies, which delights him. We went to Wasserman park afterward. I met another mother with a couple of girls. She was about my age and a pleasure to  chat with. Tyoma liked the younger of her two daughters and even ran up to her and said, "Hi kid!" with the sweetest expression on his face! My heart melted! He walked back to the car holding my hand with no complaints or tears! What a great day! After his afternoon rest, we ran an errand and stopped by Veterans park for ten minutes on the big slide (its the park on YouTube). We'd been there for five minutes when a man drove up with his lumbering red-haired son. The boy clambered on the playset and shouted  "Eeeee-eeee!" startling me. He started to rock and "eee-eee," climbing on top of the play tunnel. I could not hide my shock, but realizing that the child had autism, I tried to be polite and not whisk Tyoma away. The father awkwardly tried to make conversation but I was too distracted by his near teenage son swinging and whooping near my toddler.  Tyoma initially seemed okay, but the kid scared him and he began to cry and shriek.  I had to leave. I pitied the father who had to hustle his son back to the car as Tyoma screamed bloody murder. I felt so conflicted, on one hand, autistic kids need to play and have fun too, but heavens, didn't the father realize that his child would frighten such a young child? I wonder if a  little awkardness and echolalia in a bright book-reading toddler is such a big deal.

Limp as a Noodle...

I had a spark of joy as I played "limp as a noodle, heavy as a truck" with Tyoma. Getting out really helps me to feel better.

Trip to the Mall

Today we took a trip to the mall and had some chick-fil-a. I usually order the kid's meal with the fruit cup instead of the fries, but its been so long since we've been there that I forgot until after the handed me the bag. I Exclaimed that I meant to get the fruit cup, but by that time the fellow behind us was in mid-order so I left. As I put together our meals at a table, a worker rushed a complementary fruit cup to us! How very sweet!

After lunch we went to the play ground where Tyoma surprised me by greeting a strange child and running to hug a woman with a baby

No Pooping in the Bathtub!

We've been having problems with poo. It seems like Tyoma is going through a phase where poop is the most fascinating thing ever. Since Fontessa left, he has been getting into his soiled diaper during naptime/bedtime and smearing poo all over his crib, toys and wall. He used to knock on the wall ("poop-knocking")when he poopy. He even learned to yell, "Come get the poo!" The next step, obviously, in toilet training. Unfortunately, my focus shifted during Fontessa's wonderful visit and the momentum was lost. Phooey! Well, actually, "Pooo-ey!"
Each poop adventure has been a total shock. I can't believe he's doing this! Poo migrates into the tiniest crevices on his little body, deep under his nails, into folds of skin, behind his ears and into the creases of his nose. And his hair? Yes, there too.

He hates shampooing. Struggling with his poop-besmirched torso and limbs as I scrub his hair is no picnic for either of us. So I turned to the trusted forums of babycenter.com. It helps to read other parent’s exasperated “Poop Picasso” stories and learn that the consensus is “just a phase.” Destroying that solace are the autism Nazis, demanding that everyone have their child evaluated for persistent poo-players. Everybody has an opinion, you just have to pick out what seems right to you and give it a try.

One theory is that the warm bath following a poop excursion is a reward sought out by a child—cold showers, or cold “spritzes” are supposed to be a surefire cure. I don’t know--he hates having his hair washed. Why go through that ordeal when he can just ask for a bath?

So what to do? I decided to start giving him baths right after nap, whether or not there’s poo (removing that unlikely motive). Plus, I suit him up in a poop-suit (aka onsie) before naps. The results? The poop suit works. But he saves his poops for the tub.

Today is the third time in two weeks that he’s pooped in the tub. I am at my wits end. Bored with his bath, I sat on a stool next to the bath and played Tetris. Two minutes later, I looked up to see little brown submarines floating around. "Ewwwww! Poo!" Tyoma gleefully exclaimed. I had a "This can't be happening again" moment of unreality. Worst. Poop. In. Tub. Ever.

Taking a deep breath, I scornfully stated, “No pooping in the bathtub! Bath is over if you poop in the bathtub!”  I snatched him out of the tub and Tennisfiend whisked him to his room for a cleanup.

Still stunned, I scooped out the soft  warm poo with paper towels. I was surprised with my own revulsion. I've been wiping up poop for almost two and a half years, and this squicks me out?!  Maybe in the context of diapers or fingerpainting it's just baby poop. But placidly bobbing in a warm bath, it's obscene. It's a bowel movement!

In the back ground, Tennisfiend echoed my "No pooping" quote. This obviously made an impression since Tyoma's been repeating the phrase to the Pink Panther over and over. He’s also been saying, “Poop artists get a cold shower. Poop knockers get candy” (another strategy). I’m hoping to get this behavior under control before mom comes. The last thing she needs is to get stuck with a poo painting session while I’m not around.

Das Trampoline

We've been pulling our hair out, trying to figure out how to cope with killer baby! He skips naps and seems so wired in the evening. We decided to pick up a trampoline to give him an outlet for his energy. So we haul the red beast home from Toys 'r Us, assemble it...
 

 
 


..and it immediately becomes a home for his letters!

 I'm pleased to report that after a half an hour of organizing letters, he went on a jumping frenzy and seemed much calmer afterward!

A Day of Doubts

I had such a crazy day with Tyoma. He skipped his nap, third day in a row and was into almost everything. All the limits I tried to set resulted in tears and meltdowns. He refused to eat good food and cried for cookies and ice cream. Ack!!! I felt that I was such a bad guy, "No, no, noing!" all day long. I don't believe that he was feeling unwell, unless of course, his teeth were troubling him. Perhaps a case of too much energy and too little opportunity to burn it off? Or maybe a reaction to another change in our household?

I took him to the mall to run around for a bit and this seemed to help. He looked like the happiest kid in the playground. What a relief. Sometimes it's hard to know when to be firm and unyielding and when to cut a sick kid some slack. Bottom line: cookies and ice cream are not food groups (until you're 20!). Before he became the devil baby, he spent part of the morning putting on Grandma's boots (which I kidnapped) and stomping around. On Flickr, you can see all four pics, which boldly feature "keep out of this" gates.

Piggy Back!

I just wanted to share some cute pictures:
 
 Two cuties!!!   Looking exceptionally Russian in this picture!   We finally got Tyoma to wear something on his head! Grandma's Northface headband!

Hole In The Floor

This morning Tyoma decided to play post office with the return air floor registers. He'd drop a letter through the grate, say “Uh oh!” and retrieve it by removing the register. As I chatted with Tennisfiend’s mom in the kitchen, I heard a startled "Wahhh!" Tyoma had fallen through the register hole and partially into the basement below!!!

Can you believe that the bottom of the register was supported only by a flimsy piece of tacked up insulation?! Gasp!! The only thing that prevented Tyoma from smashing into the concrete floor twelve feet below was his stout backside (yay me, he inherited my big butt!)  Anyway, I was astonished, since I assumed that floor registers should be either screwed in to the floorboards or firmly secured from underneath. What home would sport huge holes in the floor that a baby could fall through?!  Yikes!

In forty minutes I had a half assed solution--I screwed in wood panels beneath all the baby-sized registers on the first floor. Problem was, I only had a single piece of 2x4 to tie into at each register, leaving everything else supported by an odd assortment of screws, nails and wood slivers.  Despite my hard work, Tyoma was so stimulated by his first fall that the registers were the most exciting things in the house. I wound up moving heavy furniture over the registers until we could rig up something better. 

Collage

We're not quite certain how much help Tyoma had with this, but I was quite pleasantly surprised when I found it in his "OUT" box at preschool. We plan to enroll him in the Dada School of Abstract Art for Squirmy Toddlers next session.

LL Bean

Today Tennisfiend bought himself a new down jacket from LL Bean, taking advantage of the price reductions associated with black Friday (I guess today is brown Saturday?). Anyway, our little one was quite captivated by the purchase. I noticed that he kept running into the closet where the jacket was hung. Tyoma rustled around noisily for a moment and ran off to the library, giggling. I couldn't figure out what was going on until I noticed that he was spelling "LL BEAN DOWN," as written on the tag of Tennisfiend's new jacket. Go figure!

"DIE MAMA!!!"

This is too odd and I swear to you that Tyoma spelled this all on his own!!!

Here's what happened: I washed Tyoma's hair today, first time in probably two months. He screams bloody murder when I shampoo him, so why make life miserable for both of us? Since the whole PDD-NOS thing has cropped up, I'm glad to find a slew of moms online with similarly wired children.

Anyway, he wailed and shook and clawed at me as I washed his hair. Afterward, I brought out his foamy alphabet letters and a piece of candy as a reward. He immediately spelled "DIE." I snapped this picture before he had a chance to spell out "VILE SHAMPOOING MAMA."

ETA:  This only gets funnier: my mom saw this picture and freaked.  She called me and told me I should just leave his hair alone.  She also asked in all earnestness, "Do you think he knew what it meant?"  I had to laugh and talk her out of the notion that my son wants to kill me for washing his hair. She was completely serious!

Our First Snowman!!!

Here he is!!!

E spent the greater part of Tyoma's naptime making a snowman for him. I believe that this is the second snowman of our married life, and our first here in New Hampshire. I waited down by the our glass patio door to catch the little one's astonished reaction to the real life snowman that papa made for him:

"Meh!"
It seems that the amount of effort you put into delighting your child is inversely proportional to their actual delight! However, he was delighted with the beany-baby snowman that my mom sent to him:





Tyoma's sharing some chocolate cake!

Lil' Organizer

Such a mischievous look! Tyoma organizes a mosaic of blocks. "Who me, PDD-NOS?! Nah!!!  Got anything else I can line up?"

Pinkeye!!!

What better way to spend a Sunday, than with a toddler who has pinkeye? Oh wait! Make sure you get pinkeye, too!

Yep, the wee one woke up with a bloodshot, crusty left eye. It looked mild enough, that I debated about making a big fuss with the doctor, but worry (naturally!) prevailed. Back in New Mexico, you could call an answering service and some nurse would phone in a prescription for you. Out here, folks is par-tic-ular, you gots to be SEEN!

So Tyoma skipped his nap and we spent the afternoon waiting with the other unfortunates at Nashua Pediatrics. I managed to keep him on my lap with much effort, I didn't want him to single handedly infect greater Nashua by smearing his fingers on every inviting surface. The Doctor saw him and prescribed two bottles of eye drops. She asked be if I'd every given a toddler eye drops before. Soberly, I replied, "No." She laughed, gave me a wise sidelong glance and commenced to give me a few strategies to get the drops in. Heh.

Well, I dropped off the prescription and did tomorrow's shopping (can't bring the infectious one out for 24 hours) and braced myself for the eye dropping ceremony. Tennisfiend held Tyoma as he screamed bloody murder and I tried to get the drops in his eyes. It was like trying to tattoo a cat. Good Lord!!! Such straining, struggling and shrieking--and that was just Tennisfiend yelling at me to "Put the drops in, already!" After four frustrating minutes, we traded places. I held Tyoma down and cursed at Tennisfiend while he tried to get the drops in. Success! My curses were obviously much more effective than his.

After all the excitement, my eyes itched. And so did Tennisfiend's. Thank you Doctor for giving us two bottles of eyedrops!

ETA: Pardon me for adding some pictures of the boys doing yard work together! I took these in the morning before I completely convinced myself that he had pinkeye.

In the bottom picture, Tyoma is so serious about clearing the yard of debris that he's pulling up handfulls of grass to add to the trash!

Sad!

Poor Tyoma looks sadder and sadder as a video palys on Youtube! He's watching this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2MdS3yQfRxI Whe he sees Grandma cry over her missing geese, his face droops. He'll even say "Sah" mournfully as it plays.

Visit From Papa Sasha!

Tyoma's Grandpa from Moscow came to visit us for a few days. Everyone took lots of pictures:
 
  Papa Sasha wins Tyoma over instantly with colorful and fantastic drawings.  

After breakfast Papa Sasha showed Tyoma how to take photgraphs with his digital camera. Although Tyoma's first photo was of the ceiling, his second turned out pretty well!

  "Oooooooooh!" Lunch at the Beanery with robo-crab.   Papa Sasha's lovely portrait. T looks like a Franklin Mint china doll.  Badminton game!   Students of English hard at work!   It's for you! Visits with Papa Sasha always go so smoothly.  I think that's because they are so brief and on such short notice that I don't have time to get bent out of shape!

Bubbles!!!

 "Wheeeee!"   Our pensive son, showing off his new hair cut.   "Ewwwww! Clammy Toes!"

Wagons Ho!!!

 Nothing like a big, red, tricked out wagon to make a boy happy! Thank you Grandma and Grandpa!!!

Pimp My Guestroom

  
Tyoma illustrates his fascination with the number six. Hopefully, I won't find a matching birthmark anywhere...
 
Anyway, I think his love for six  has something to do with his favorite letter X.  He likes the idea that six has an X in it.  I wonder if he is beginning to read? He can point out individual words like six, exit, Lorax, etc. Hmmm. Regardless, he has his stories memorized.  If I skip a sentence in a favorite book, he squirms.  Heck, if I say the words out or order or make up my own story, he squirms. What a memory!
 

  
Oh No! He's using his piercing "Damien" gaze to get me to read Horton Hears A Who for the third time today!

I should mention that for Tyoma's second birthday, Grandma and Grandpa redecorated the guestroom/play room (from New Mexico, even!). Tyoma now has a brand new desk and organizer to keep his 10,000 toys in order. I handmade picture frames for the Klee posters we had hanging about and removed the closet doors for more play area. Yay! Thanks guys!

Help in the Kitchen

Hmmmmm... How do most kids "help" in the kitchen? Do they "cook" on the floor? Clang pots and pans together? Improvise a drum set with a mixing bowl and spoon? Not this little guy! He thoughtfully arranges a cabinet of pans into orderly semi-circles and then replaces everything (in order!) and closes the cabinet door. "A-ha-HA!" he turns to me and exclaims. Five minutes later, he repeats the same exercise, but this time I caught a picture:
 
  When I first  turned around to see what Tyoma was doing and saw these pans, I was astonished. You know the scene in Poltergeist where the housewife is discovering that her house is haunted? She turns her away and suddenly her kitchen chairs are stacked on one another? That's how I felt. It was uncanny.  
Well, spooky or not, he sure seems to have fun! Ah, our unlovely kitchen! Sigh!