Friday, August 14, 2009

Oy, it's so Hayumid...

I love my home commonwealth of Pennsyltucky, but damn, summers around here can get pretty "close" as my grandmother would say. I've been working on my London Experience paper outside on the porch at my mother's house. We've been staying here and watching over the estate while she's recovering from knee replacement surgery. She's doing well and is highly motivated to recover quickly because a) she's having the other knee done in 6 1/2 weeks and b) she's bound and determined to walk before her grandson. I think by Christmas they'll both be tearing it up.

Max had his therapy appointment yesterday. Again, the universe putting stuff in perspective. When he was discharged from the hospital ten months ago, we were told he would be caught up with his actual age by the age of 24 months. After what the therapist saw yesterday, it is looking like he'll be caught up by 15 months, if not sooner. He's an amazing little boy, and begs a visit to the question of nature vs. nurture. This kid was born tough and bright, which is great, because he's had to be. He's curious and stubborn, likes to test the boundaries and push the limits. He knows when he's doing something he shouldn't, like grab at the wires on a lamp or some other electrical device. He'll look back at you as if to say "yeah? What are you gonna do about it?" The answer is a quick little slap on the hand which he shrugs off. My point is that he is responsible for his survival and for his flourishing more than Angie and I are. He's just amazing.

It was fortuitous that the therapist showed up around nap time. She got to see Max in all his "I'm not going to bed, damn it, I don't care how tired I am" glory. She asked us some questions and we asked her a ton. The conclusion that was arrived at is that our preemie is a "stong-willed child". No kidding. I'll admit, though, it was nice to hear someone with greater experience in these matters than we to recognize the same thing we've been seeing for a few months now. The boy is stubborn. Nothing we can do about that. She reassured us we're doing the right thing with letting him cry it out at night, and said we were smart to be doing this now. If we had waited too much longer, it would have been a lot nastier. We've been reading how it would take "three or four days" before a child would get used to being put to bed and crying it out before they got the hint. For a week now, we've had the routine: bath, bottle, book, bed. Nothing. Screams for an hour, although lately we've had some nights and naps when he went down after a backrub. The therapist said it might take upwards of two weeks, if not longer. That was good to hear. I don't feel as though we're missing something, or doing something wrong. It's just him, our stubborn little boy.

We also found out this week something we had already known. Max is small. No, really! He's not going to be the "tub of lard" baby that his dad or his uncles were. He's a little guy. Well proportioned, except for the enormous head, but that's where the brain is, so no complaints there. I just hope he uses it when he's a teenager.... But seriously, again, it was good to hear that he's just small, and that yes, we're feeding him the right stuff. His weight matches his height, so everything is okay. We've been feeding him a lot of organic food (all organic, really) and not a lot of meat, although we've been giving that to him a lot more recently. I remember hearing a report once that the reason kids are so big in this country is partly due to the growth hormones they put in the feed animals. I'm not sure I believe all that, but why risk it? He's had enough medical issues to last him for a while. Small or large, he's my little buck.

We've begun this little game between the two of us. He'll look at me, and I'll look at him, and we'll gently butt heads and then giggle. This will go on for several minutes. I like being the rough-and-tumble dad. It's one of the things I miss most about my dad. We would fight and wrestle and of course he always won, though towards the end of his life, we were getting pretty comparable in skills. He had strength, but I had speed and agility (ha! wonder what happened to THAT?). Now with, and the way he thinks, I wonder how he'll beat me. I'm sure it will happen, but probably not for a long, long time. Like Sunday. Or maybe next Wednesday.

One the computer front, the service man showed up today with the correct part. Got it to begin the booting up process and the minute he walked out the door, nothing. Turned off. So now, I'll be getting a box from Sony and I'll be shipping it to CA for repairs or replacement. Took the hard drive to Staples where the nicest computer tech I've ever met retrieved all my documents and pictures. Seriously, this guy acted...socialized. And friendly to boot. Anyway, I can continue work on my paper now, and not have to worry about when/if I'll get my info off my computer to finish. There's a reason I like doing arcane carpentry (sans the power tools, a hobby of mine). Sure it's slower, but you know what to expect. No surprises for the most part. Like when I take my hammer to the keyboard of my paperweight/laptop, I know pretty much what's going to happen. Sweet, sweet retribution.

Well, that's about it. 12 hours of on and off (mostly on) paper writing. Daddy's down for the day.

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