Yesterday Was Tuesday

Yes, you reply. Good job, Andie--you know your days!

Tuesdays are, as you know, our Mike days. They are also the busiest days of the week for us because that is where we ram all the doctors appointments and errands and general "around town" sort of business.

The start of the week was rather hard as Gabriel had a rough start and our day had trouble getting off the ground. I used this time to make all my requisite phone calls.

At the end of April, I had received a letter from the Department of Health and Human Services that rather baffled me. As I did not at the time have a moment to puzzle it out, naturally it got chucked in the "Drawer of Important Papers" (more aptly referred to "The Drawer of Crap I Will Never Look at Again") and remained out of sight, out of mind until just recently. I happened across it again this weekend and perused it much more carefully than I had before, managing to extract some meaning though not in it's entirety.

You see, this was a letter offering us a social worker.

My knowledge of social workers extends to "people that take your babies away", so my initial reaction was confusion and fear; the letter itself, however, was quite pleasant and not at all indicative of baby-snatching. But I am making much-too-much about a phone call that lasted less than ten minutes. The end result was that my curiosity was spiked so I called the contact listed, who was a very sweet and pleasant lady that was happy to explain the purpose of a social worker.

Basically, when Early Childhood Intervention ran out, I was left rather guideless and befuddled. There were so many voices, offering advice, pointing us in every which direction of how to get Gaby what he needed. I am ashamed to admit, feeling overly taxed, I simply enrolled him in PPCD and left it at that for the time being, the bare minimum I could do.

If we want, we can request a social worker to help navigate through all this mess--figure out what, if any, government programs could benefit him, explain paperwork, locate respite or therapies or specialists or supplies if we don't know where to begin looking. The way Ms. Lara put it was, "we are here so you don't have to go through it alone".

We set up a time for someone to come out and talk to us, and if it turns out that we don't need it then at least we explored the option.

Also among my many Monday phone calls was to Dr Killeen, the doctor that delivered all my babies. I needed to make a yearly appointment with him, but also to ask for the nurses advice--since I had been pregnant the majority of the last five years, I haven't bothered getting a general practitioner. I just always went to Dr. Killeen. Now with my 25th birthday coming up next week, I figured it was time for a check-up, particularly with my disposition for hereditary unhealthiness.

They recommended Dr. Hale, who has a nice little office on the fancy side of town, so I make an appointment for the next day, Tuesday.

Our first appointment with the new Occupational Therapist (OT) started Tuesday morning at 9, but I was running a little behind so Erin (the new OT) showed up while we were still bunched around the table eating pancakes. Gabe did remarkably well interacting with Erin--they played with playdough together, then putty. They also practiced writing horizontal and vertical lines and circles; Gaby would mimic the horizontal lines, but not the vertical or the circles. He was happy to color though, and demonstrated great dexterity by stripping a crayon of its wrapper. It doesn't seem like much, but he stayed focus and engaged for the entire 20 minute session.

After OT, I got us all dressed and we waited for Daddy to come home at 11. Michael got a little bonus money so he drove me by Hastings to buy a new book for the waiting room of the doctor's office. I love Hastings, even more so than Barnes and Noble, because I got 6 books for $3. They are used, but good and in good condition.

Michael dropped me off at my doctor's appointment and took the kids back home to eat disgusting Burger King (they mayonnaise everything) while I did my thing.

As this blog (and anyone with a hundred yards of me) can attest, I have been under a great deal of stress the last year or so. I have thus far been dealing with it as best I can, with a combination of prayer, cleaning, and mommy time-outs, but the truth is, I have been floundering. My temper is always simmering just beneath the surface, ready to explode over the tiny little nothings that make up my every day life. Limited sleep was further punctuated by insomnia, my self-esteem was in the toilet, and Michael being delayed fifteen minutes from coming home could send me into a tailspin of tears, anger, and inactivity that would ruin the rest of the day.

I had more or less resigned myself to feeling this way because it felt like a reasonable amount of stress, given our circumstances--to be expected of a stay-at-home mom with three under 4, one of which being special needs. Never-the-less, I mentioned it to the doctor just in case.

He was kind and compassionate, saying that my body was probably still trying to right itself after the hormonal ups and downs of so many consecutive pregnancies, and so prescribed me a pill to raise seratonin levels, help even me out a bit more. He also gave me pills to help me sleep if I need them, though they won't knock me out to where I can't hear the babies. Another appointment in two weeks will tell if they are having the desired effect; so far all I have felt is quite nauseous, as I am woefully pitiful when it comes to taking medication.

Because of family history, they ran blood work to check my thyroid, my cholesterol, and my insulin/sugar levels. I wasn't expecting anything to show up on that front, but better safe than sorry you know. I get the call today--my cholesterol levels came back high, so they are starting me on medication to get it back under control. The nurse said that it will probably be all right in a couple of months.

Being the little nerdlet that I am, I researched all I could about high cholesterol after she told me. As far as I can tell, I am not entirely why I got the numbers I did. I only eat lean meats, whole grains, and low-fat/fat-free dairy products; no trans-fats at all. I don't smoke, I am not overweight. The only two issues could be my lack of formal exercise (worn out enough as it is chasing three kids around), and my family history.

Anyways, they called in a prescription for us to pick up later, and hopefully we can get this under control with more strict diet, increased physical activity, and medication. I am a little peeved since I go out of my way to eat healthy, but it is nothing I can't handle.

After my very productive doctor's appointment, we ran by the grocery store to pick up a few little things and got about an hour and a half's rest before the Autism Treatment Study at 5.

A Texas Tech doctoral student is writing her dissertation on autism treatment and needed parents of autistic kids between the ages of 3 and 7 to come in and talk about how stressed they are. Heck, I can do that. So I sign us up and the very first one was Tuesday.

On the way to the study, we stopped by the library to drop off the kids' Summer Reading Logs. If you read 25 books, you get a special little goodie bag and they put your name up on the wall. We knocked 25 out in less than a week, so I returned the logs and got the goodie bags for the kids, which had a stuffed animal, whistling Frisbee, binoculars, crayons, and a bunch of cards for free kids meals or ice cream at different places in town.

Michael dropped Gabriel and me off and kept Benjamin and Emerald while we were gone. The lobby had a fish tank with a big pirate ship in it, and Gabe just loved that. He was in such an amiable mood all day long, I was feeling rather pleased.

Lindsay (the student) called us back and went over what was going to happen with us. First, I wore a bluetooth headset and played with Gabriel alone while she prompted us. All she really said was that I was to let him lead the play, meaning not to direct him toward anything. I don't know if she got what she needed because as soon as I got down on the floor, Gaby wanted to push me to lay down so he could lay next to me or sit on my stomach or have me lift him up. He showed little to no interest in the toys around him, just wanting to interact with me, play with me.

After that, she tried to do some vocabulary tests with him while I filled out paperwork about things Gabe could and could not do, my stress level and how I was feeling in general about being a parent, how much time I spent with him...things of that nature. It went by very quickly and smoothly, and we were out within the hour.

Now for the next four consecutive weeks, Gabe and I will go for 2 hours every Tuesday and interact with the groups of moms and kids that have signed up for the study as well. I think they are hoping to reduce our stress levels or improve our ability to correct inappropriate behaviors or something, I wasn't paying the strictest of all attention. They are all nice though, and I think it will be good for us to participate.

After making a quick stop by Barnes and Noble to turn in a third reading log (Emerald got a free "Fancy Nancy" book out of the deal), we got home finally about 7 that night. It was taco Tuesday, but none of us really felt like eating. The kids did well, but I got to feeling quite piteous from a tumultuous tummy, so I spent the rest of the night sulking about after the kids went to sleep, only to be awoken at 1 in the morning and staying up the rest of the night with the night owl Gabriel.

Speaking of, I am dangerously close to nodding off now, so I am going to take a nap while all the kids are still sleeping. Till next time--

--Andie