Doing our best to keep this behind us. Photo by tswicegood

Here’s the best kept secret that only parents of kids who are taking their time talking and developing know about: Early Intervention Programs. Here’s the skinny: after evaluating  whether your toddler is developing normally in the areas of speech, motor skills, cognitive and emotional functioning, sensory perceptions and a host of other things, states may help kids catch up in said areas  (read: therapy). I never knew about this until I had a kid. Now, I’m knee deep in the process.

When we live in Los Angeles, A. qualified for California’s equivalent after four evaluations done by a social worker, occupational therapist, sensory occupational therapist and a speech pathologist. After our one at-home evaluation, he qualified for New Jersey’s program.

But after going through this process twice, I wonder who is the early intervention for: him or me? I seem to walk away from these sessions thinking that I am the bad mother and that I have failed as my son’s first teacher. I know it isn’t entirely true but for a woman who is pretty hard on herself it’s hard not to think that it is. This intervention says: Stop your bad parenting!

I do what all the parenting mags advise. But I also know that he drinks more milk than he should (I’m as guilty as Katie Holmes for letting him continue to use a bottle); that he watches more television than he should; and that he rather play cars than sit and have me read to him. Will I continue to try and wean him from the bottle, play with him outside and read to his wiggly body? Of course! But I’m still happy I have a little help for him (and me) make up developmental ground.

There was Grover, the dog we had until I was 4 and moved to California. I used to sit under the table with him and share my food like most kids that age do. Tabitha was my first dog and a Christmas present when I was about 7 or 8. I named her after the daughter on “Bewitched.” My Mom and stepdad got her from a rescue organization and, boy, could she run fast. She would tear around our backyard like a greyhound chasing a rabbit. In fact, we think that our second dog, Apollo, was trying to keep up with her when he fell into our pool. That golden cocker spaniel was sweet, but clumsy.

Both Tabitha and Apollo lived until I was in high school. They died within a month of one another. Their absence in our house was heart-breaking. We vowed not to get another dog. Then, six months later, Sable, a black Pomeranian, was the featured guest at my parents’ Christmas party. I don’t think there could be a more affectionate dog. She would wait on my bed in the morning and at the slightest move, she would pounce on me and start licking my face. After I went away to college, she would agree me with TONS of kisses when I would sit down. She had a bionic tongue and I went through a lot of face cleanser. Eventually, my mom craved puppy kisses again and adopted Blaize, an American Eskimo.

I never lived with Blaize, but he was happy to see me when I would go home to visit. When Baby A came, Blaize was patient towards this little boy who used him (as he did Moo) for support to stand, who insisted on petting him and who giggled as he drank water. He taught my son the meaning of the words dog and puppy.

This morning I received a text from my mom: “This morning Blaize joined Sable. He’s home.” This beautiful dog had grown old and feeble. His health was deteriorating and my parents took care of him as if he was their sick child…well, he was. I do not have words to ease their grief.

For me, he was one of the glorious animals who fill my life with joy, laughter and play.

It started with a crazy idea. If you have been reading this blog for awhile you know that M. and I come up with these wild plans, then act on them. This one wasn’t so wild: Change our job search from Chicago to the Greater New York Area.

Then a job materialized. M. mentioned our intentions to a colleague and a job appeared. Literally two weeks after we agreed to the plan, he was offered an exciting job where the pay was right.

And then a place to live came available. My good friend ML had lined up a renter for her townhouse in the suburbs and that renter fell through just as M.’s offer came in. It was perfect for us, close to the city and the job. Plus, what parent can say no to having a playground 100 feet from their front door? Already a better life for A. was shaping up.

Baby A and I saying good-bye to the bench.

Here was the hard part. I packed and said good-bye to an area that I had lived in for most of my life in a matter of two weeks. Friends and family were the most difficult to bid adieu to even though I know I will see them again. But visiting my dad’s memorial was much harder than I expected. Overlooking the Seal Beach pier made me remember talking to my dad about events and decisions that were important during my high school and college years. After his passing, going to the bench we have in his honor allowed me to think freely about divorce, job opportunities, and new relationships. I will miss it the most.

Traveling cross country with two cats and a toddler. M and I packed everyone up in our car and drove from LA to New Jersey. My FIL drove the moving truck. (A huge amount of gratitude goes to him.) Everyone did great despite spending over 14 hours in the car for three days. We were lucky to have hosts in Denver and Illinois that allowed us to stay for two nights and one day so that kitties and Baby A could run around.

East coast, Baby! Everyone has been super friendly. ML has hooked us up with our neighbors and other friends. Baby A can’t get enough of the playground, pool or just walking around the area. So far so good.

For years I have wanted to make this move and now I wonder why I didn’t do it sooner. In two years and three states, it’s nice to finally feel like we’re home.

I believe that as women we’re expected to have children and when we don’t want to fulfill this biological responsibility, we are seen as strange. Call it a symptom of my circumstances, but being a mom wasn’t what I wanted once upon a time. Eventually, that changed. And now that I have had one, people expect that I’ll have another. (Sorry, this uterus is closed.)

Unfortunately, responding truthfully isn’t enough. People (strangers and non-strangers alike) must question your decision to procreate and try to poke around your psyche. Why? Why doesn’t she want children? Let’s agree, it’s intrusive and it’s rude.

My hope this weekend is that Bradshaw’s honest answer to “Why aren’t you have kids?” will stop the prying and seemingly judgmental questions. And it may. A recent Maternal and Child Health Journal study out of the University of Nebraska at Lincoln found that women’s attitude about getting pregnant is laxing.

In a study of 4,000 sexually-active women, about 71 percent said they were not trying to get pregnant, while 6 percent said they were. But nearly one in four, 23 percent, told researchers they were “OK either way” – they were neither trying to conceive, nor preventing a pregnancy. Among the non-mommies, 60 percent said they were trying not to get pregnant, 14 percent were trying to get pregnant and 26 percent responded that they were leaving it up to fate.  Could this attitude-adjustment stop the baby interrogations?

Hopefully. Parenting is tough enough and shouldn’t be entered because it is the thing to do. Good for her and Big to realize that.

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Have you been brow-beaten for your decision to not have a child or children? How did you handle it? I promise not to question your decision.

Today he fell asleep in the car right before reaching our building so I decided to take him for a drive to In and Out Burger. He could nap and we could get some lunch and satisfy my burger craving. I used to be a vegetarian but after becoming severely anemic I decided that having meat every once in awhile was better than what iron supplementation would do to my already sensitive digestive system. That’s why once a month or so I usually have a hamburger. Since Baby A usually eats the French fries, we’d both win—so I thought.

Once we got our order, I cooled down some fries and gave them to him then took out my burger (a plain cheeseburger with grilled onions). He ate the three fries then pointed at my sandwich. I gave it to him and he ate nearly the whole thing on the way home. Sure, my son could be eating better but he hasn’t been eating until today. Of course, I wish my son would gobble up the berries on cut up for breakfast and share my salad with me, but right now I want him to eat something more than whole milk and whole grain toast. If that means he partakes in my hamburger fix every once in awhile then so be it.

We live in a two-bedroom apartment and so our guest room is our living room. When grandpa goes to bed, M., Moo, Pumpkin and I retreat to the master bedroom. (A is sleeping in his room, of course.) While M. misses the DVR and television (only one, located in living/guest room), I enjoy times like right now. M. is reading, I’m writing and we are surrounded by cuddling kitties. Not a bad way to end the first day of the week.

Without social media sites like Twitter and Facebook, I wouldn’t know about the immigration protest at the Federal Building near my house today. I wouldn’t necessarily know where to donate my haircut clippings to clean up the oil spill in the Gulf. I wouldn’t know the goings-on of friends from high school and college. And I know when my favorite blogs have new postings. It’s these bite-size bits of knowledge that allow me to not retreat in a cocoon of Baby A, M., kitties and email. (So easy to do.)

The bottom line: before you knock it, try it. From one convert, this may streamline your information feed and at the end of the day, don’t we all want things to be easier.

The J Brand Houlihan Skinny Cargo: Could they be magic? Photo by Piperlime

Honestly, I’ve been hesitant about J Brand Jeans because they are so skinny (and I have athletic legs). But after reading on Cindy Whitehead’s Blog how much she adored hers I had to give them a try-on.

They were amazing! I felt thin, I could move, and I was comfortable. However, at the $231 price tag, they’re going on my wish list or better called my lust list.

Luckily, there is one close to her house even though I took the long way to get there. Any coffee house would have done, but when I go into Starbucks it is familiar with electrical outlets, music, and food. Just like going to an office…anywhere you are.

As I rush from appointment to appointment in New York, carts of fruits and vegetables nourish me— basket of blueberries sold for $2 and a pear for 25 cents. Yesterday was the first time in a long while that I ate my seven servings of fruits and vegetable without strategic planning.

By having these purveyors out on the street where traffic is flowing makes it easy to associate whole foods with satisfying the hunger that is occurring. And those hunger pangs aren’t the crazy, ravenous kind either since noshing on these natural fibrous fillers has kept my blood sugar steady.

Imagine a world where each city had the same availability of fruits and vegetables. My hope that it would mean a healthier population.