I was FINE preparing to say goodbye to my little girl, standing patiently in line awaiting the bell on her first day of all-day Kindergarten today. And I would have remained fine, pregnancy hormones and all, had it not been for her very sweet and well-meaning but somewhat sadistic teacher. I was handed a little memento of this first momentous day. –>

As Laurel walked confidently away from me in her shiny new black shoes, a bouncing, smiling girl in all pink, her red hair glistening in the sun, the tears started sliding down my face. I took some photos, and she looked back once to give me the thumbs up. I waved and faked a smile. And then turned to Allen, who was there just in time after seeing Kelsey off, to bury my sobbing, sniffling face into his awaiting shoulder.

I had prepared to do the happy dance of the liberated mommy. I was bragging that I should have a party. That after being stay-at-home mommy for 7.5 years, THIS would be my shining moment. I would be free. For 6 hours per day. I was going to spend my first day doing errands that are so hard to do with kids around. Followed by a nap.

It turns out I’m a little bit of an emotional wreck. And instead of partying, I’ve done a little shopping, cleaned the house, organized the DVDs and re-alphabetized them, and am thinking of making cookies for my darling kids before zooming up to the school to get there early. I look forward to holding my little girl in my arms again.

It doesn’t matter that I’m not ready to let her go. She’s ready.

Damn hormones.

There goes my baby!! *snf*

We got our library cards today!

Also today, we…

• Checked out Kelsey’s 2nd grade classroom, and I got to meet her teacher.
• Toured Laurel’s Kindergarten classroom.
• Turned in our summer reading worksheets at the library, where both kids were supposed to read (or be read to) a minimum of 10 hours.

And here I brag a bit. Sorry. Hey, this is my job, so think of this as my jawing on and on about that big promotion I just got.

Kelsey read probably at least twice that much so far this summer, including The Tale of Desperaux and James and the Giant Peach, and about 10 of the Magic Treehouse series. I had her report to me after each book, and she is retaining characters and plot details (unlike earlier in the year, when she would “speed read” and forget everything by the end of the book).  Kelsey’s reading list, if you’re interested, is HERE. As for Laurel, half of the books on her reading list were books she read by herself, at Level C-F (A being easiest), with little-to-no help.

• Painted our toenails

• AND… I managed to sneakily finish off the last of the frosting left over from the cupcakes I made for my mother’s birthday. Go me!

So I took the easy way out and asked if she’d like to go on a special date with me to go get ice cream.  Her dismal little head nodded, bangs flapping up and down, fingers in her mouth. The tears, at least, stopped. On the way to Brigham’s in Arlington right down the street from our house, I noticed that the hardware store had its summer wares out for display. I quickly detoured into the parking lot and led one very sad girl over to take a look at the pools. I did a quick glance at the prices and said, “Pick one out!” She did, and we paid the $14.23 and headed out.

Evil has a hose!

Minutes later, Laurel and I are walking down the trail that runs from the hardware store to right in back of our house, as the new plastic pool wouldn’t fit into our van. Her smile was so bright that she lit up an otherwise rather cloudy day. She danced and jumped the entire way home, her eyes lighting up as she talked about all the things she planned to do this summer in her pool.

When we got home, she wiggled into her bathing suit and begged me to fill her new pool. Even though the rain was coming down by then, she didn’t care.  She sat in that pool, under an umbrella and enjoyed herself, despite the deluge. After a few minutes, the sun peeked out.

It can keep on raining every day next week, as it has for the last two weeks. As the weather channel has predicted.

I’ll still find a way to bring some sunshine into my backyard.

A few weeks ago, I sat down with my five-year-old on my lap and asked her to read a page out of a book for me. I didn’t expect her to actually read it. She read the entire book, almost without any help. It’s like she learned to read, literally, overnight. Sure, we’ve been going over the easy-reader “Bob” books with her, and having her try to sound out small words on the magna doodle. But, truly, I think all those times we found her up late, sitting in her bed well past bedtime, trying to read books she knew by heart, she was actually working out this whole “reading” thing for herself. Stubborn little thing.

Now she is writing letters. Not “letters” as in the alphabet. She is writing cards and letters to friends and family, sounding out the words by herself and writing them down. Last week, she wrote a letter to her friend, KT. It said “Dear KT, do you know that I love you.” She’s been waiting for a reply all week in the mail. Every day, she asks if a letter has arrived from KT yet.

Today, she decided to take matters into her own hands. Here is the letter she wrote to her friend:

Translation (it’s hard to read, as her g’s are backwards, and she splits her words from one line to the next)

From Laurel to KT
Have you noticed you are not giving
me a letter
because you are supposed to
give a letter back

Short and sweet and to the point. Perhaps KT’s parents, who read this blog, would please prod their child to write a return letter? Or I think more letters will be forthcoming, not all of them this polite?

For those new readers who haven’t been reading my blog for years, I am a self-taught expert on dealing with pediatric constipation and stool withholding. After weaning my now five-year-old daughter at age two, constipation has been a challenge in our family. We’ve consulted a number of physicians and GI specialists. We cut lactose completely from her diet. We tried any number of solutions, none of which worked for more than a few weeks. We learned that some children just suffer from functional constipation — which is, constipation that doesn’t have a medical cause.

It barely needs mentioning here that if your infant or young child suffers from constipation, a number of conditions need to be ruled out medically by a GI specialist. Getting a diagnosis of functional constipation is important as a first step to moving toward a methodology for treating it that works for you and your child.

Friends with good intentions have suggested a number of solutions over the years. I’ve, of course, tried them all, before they even suggested them. Still, I would listen patiently to the advice to add prunes and prune juice, to try mineral water, etc. Others tried to suggest that it’s a behavioral issue. She’s a stubborn child. She’s lazy. She’s misbehaving. She wants to still be “the baby.” The one that hurt the most was when they blamed me for not giving her enough attention.

My little girl suffers from encopresis, a fancy word for stool withholding. Encopresis occurs as a result of constipation. It’s the psychological conclusion to a biological problem. As a matter of fact, according to this article on KidsHealth.org, MOST cases of stool withholding (about 90%) are due to constipation.

Why does a child withhold stool? Fear of pain. It’s that easy. Eventually, as your child gets older, more complex issues arise, such as depression, lack of self confidence, fear of repercussions. It’s a vicious cycle. A child withholds stool out of a fear that trying to pass it will hurt. So the cycle continues and worsens. Adults who don’t understand the condition actually make it worse by punishing, threatening, and belittling. Any caregiver of your child needs to know the facts. That means informing grandparents, daycare workers, babysitters, and other adults in your child’s everyday life so that they know what their responsibility is toward helping the child overcome the condition.

What’s it like to live with this challenge? Here’s a snapshot:

About six weeks ago, Laurel sneakily ate two bananas, in a row. Bananas are very binding, so we usually don’t even keep them around. But I was having a craving, so I had a bunch sitting around for me to snack on.

Anyway,  we were, prior to this, DONE with the encopresis, finished with accidents, totally over the constipation. For months. After the bananas, there was, apparently, a painful attempt on the toilet. And voila, we are back at step one in the cycle of encopresis.

We know the routine. Increase the Miralax, up her hydration, cut the juices with water, moderate dairy, increase the ruffage, add more raw veggies, make sure she gets more exercise, and hope it works itself out in a few days. Sometimes we give a small dose of ex-lax to stimulate her colon. One of the side effects of encopresis can be decreased muscular reflex in the colon. She may not feel the urge to poop. A stimulant can help, as long as it’s given with the advice of a doctor and in moderation. In most cases, we experience one or two steps back at this stage, and then fast forward to where we were before the binding event. Done.

Not this time. And I think compounding the problem (so to speak…) was another significantly upsetting change in her world: A newly pregnant and very distracted  mom who was all of a sudden having trouble staying awake, never mind keeping track of her child’s eating and defecating cycles. Because having a child with this challenge takes vigilance. I have to be aware of what she’s eating, and tracking when she’s going. At some point, she will outgrow this condition. Until then, it’s my responsibility to help her succeed and remain positive and motivated.

Four weeks pass without any stool. Followed by a week of leakage in her panties as some of the softer stool makes its way past the obstruction in her colon. We’re now in that stage where talking about dietary changes is a waste of time.  The psychological component is all that matters. I clear my calendar for the week, take a few days off from playdates, outings, appointments, socializing. It’s important to help her preserve her self esteem and work on her confidence so that she can succeed in battling the fear. I offer positive reinforcement and lots of affection. We read a lot of stories on the toilet, take warm baths, and go for walks.

It’s hard work for the parent/caregiver. I’m not perfect. I get impatient. I lean on my awesome husband and good friends to help keep my spirits up. Cleaning panties all day long, bleaching out the sink a few times a day — these things wear a parent down. Having a good support system in place, especially if you are home with your child all day long, is essential. You are your child’s cheerleader. And when you get worn down, impatience, frustration, disappointment and even parental depression are the results. Of all the literature I’ve read thus far on this condition, I’ve never read an article that talks about the parents’ emotional needs. So I’m mentioning it here, and it may warrant a separate article. Get some support. Make sure your needs are met, that you get breaks and time away to refuel.

Anyway, eventually, my little girl gets to the point where she wants to negotiate with me for positive reinforcement. She’ll do an art project — a poop chart, and she’ll come up with some ideas for rewards. She’ll start getting into the idea that there is at least ONE positive aspect to her succeeding on the toilet. Sometimes it’s a trip to the museum, or a toy she’s been wanting. We talk about what she needs to do to accomplish her goal. And then, with the external motivation in place, she’ll make an effort. After a few attempts, she’ll succeed, and she’ll realize the OTHER motivation to making the effort. Relief. And then we’re on the road to returning to normalcy. I follow through on the external motivation. But the more important one is the internal one. I now have a child who is proud of herself, again, for making the effort to take care of her body’s needs.

If your child suffers from encropresis, too, there are some excellent resources for you. Honestly, just plug in “encropresis” on a google search. Pick the top 10, and you’ll read something useful. You can even read about other mommy bloggers who have children who suffer from constipation. One of these is the awesome and completely hilarious Heather Armstrong at Dooce.

Childhood constipation is a relatively common condition. The myth is that adding prunes or prune juice to your child’s diet will work magic. But it’s a lot more complicated than this. First of all, you can’t force feed a child, or you have even more complex problems down the road. Prunes and prune juice do not work if you can’t get your child to consume them. And when constipation leads to stool withholding, it’s not the food that is the root of the problem. It’s the fear. There will always be times when Laurel eats something binding, doesn’t drink enough water, etc. You have to have a system in place for taking care of the biological component, and giving your child the psychological tools she needs to help her succeed.

She didn’t just read the words of an old familiar book in our collection, which she’s been doing for months. From memory. She read a new book she’d never seen before.

I picked out some books at the library, among them Todd Parr’s Reading Makes You Feel Good. I turned to page one, and I told Laurel to read the words. And she did. “Reading makes you feel good because you can imagine you are a brave princess or a scary dinosaur.” She got stuck on “because” “imagine” and “scary.” She read about 90% of the words in this book. Easily.

I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s been caught reading books in bed late at night lately, her face screwed up in such  throes of concentration, as though she were some mad evil scientist trying to crack the code that sends all the missles airborn. Or something.

On Wednesday, Laurel played outside in the snow in her regular clothes for about 20 minutes. Then, she came inside, we got on our jackets, and we went to preschool. While there, she complained of itchy legs, so I took a look at her legs. She had hives all up and down the outside of her legs. I put on some anti-itch cream, thinking that maybe she had an allergic reaction to the detergent I used. The hives seemed to fade as time passed, so I noted it and went on. Later in the day, we played at the playground in the snow for about 30 minutes. And I saw hives breaking out on Laurel’s cheeks! So, we went home and I put her in the bathtub. The hives faded again after less than an hour of warming up. I went online and read about some conditions that could cause such a reaction, and I decided that more data was necessary.

Yesterday, Laurel played for about 15 minutes in the snow. When we got home, she had hives on her butt and some on her face. So I made an appointment with the doctor for this morning. We did an ice test, and her skin reacted by becoming splotchy and producing hives.

My doctor’s office tentatively diagnosed cold urticaria. Tentative, because such conditions are rather hard to pinpoint. On snowy days, I’ve been advised to give her 5mg of OTC Zyrtec as a preventative measure. And I’m picking up a prescription for an epi pen, just in case.

We are going to be more vigilant about making sure her body temperature stays within a reasonable range during outside play, which means it’s time to find some purple snow pants and invest in more mittens, warm socks, and scarves. And insisting on warm-up time for every half hour of play.

I’m going to keep an eye on her, and if the hives get worse, I’ll escalate and get her to an allergist.

Last night, we had a huge meltdown because it was Kelsey’s night to pick out the book. Today’s meltdown is about Laurel’s clothing to go to the dentist. Nothing unusual here. And then she has another meltdown because Kelsey won’t let her get in on her side of the car.

Both Kelsey and I are refusing to take the path of least resistance with Laurel and let her have her way all the time. I can tell, as Kelsey asserts herself, that she tires of all the battles and tantrums. It’s important to Kelsey that she doesn’t always give in to her sister. Part of me wishes she would in this case, but I need to let K have her own relationship with L instead of negotiating every exchange.

At the dentist, Laurel runs around like a crazy thing while I am trying to schedule a return visit for Kelsey’s mouth full of cavities. This is very unlike Laurel, as she is usually very well behaved in public places. Then, on the way out, she decides to make us wait while she counts every chair in the office before exiting. THEN, she runs back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the car, grinning at me while I’m doing the 1-2-3 count. Finally, she gets in and I strap her into her seat.

We drive to a store to fax some documents for Allen’s new employer, and I am waiting for both girls to get out so that I can push the lock button on my side, as my remote is broken. Laurel doesn’t move. I wait. She doesn’t move or say anything. Finally, at the end of my patience, I reach over and undo her seat belt and motivate her physically to get out of the car, as she slumps like a boneless chicken.

“Are you punishing me for something?” I ask, my voice frustrated.

“You wouldn’t let me wear the glass slippers” she mumbles around fingers stuck into her mouth. Big sad eyes look up at me.

Flashback to 2 hours ago: While trying to get kids out the door, I see Laurel in a pink dress, crown, and dress-up heels. I can deal with the crown. I mean, how many little girls do you see walking around with a crown on? Probably a few at least, right? But the dress up shoes are clicky, and too big, and plastic with no rubber on the soles. Not appropriate footwear for leaving the house. I ask her to please put on her shoes, and she refuses. Curls up in a ball on the floor and whines. So, I get her shoes and socks, put them on her while she is in said position, and muscle everyone out the door so that we aren’t late for our appointment.

All this plays through my mind as I’m walking my kids across the street to fax the documents.

“So, you’re sad and angry that I wouldn’t let you wear the dress-up shoes, and THAT is the reason for this behavior?”

“Uh huh,” she replies.

My child is getting her vengeance. And maybe she’s justified.

There are some things I know I need to tirelessly fight for: Parking lot safety, appropriate behavior in public places, crossing streets, required parental permission before going anywhere out of my range of vision — things where the common element is the safety of my children.

And then there are the other things.

The manual for Laurel has been updated with a note, suggesting that fighting over things such as wardrobe are in the “Is it really worthwhile” column. Yes, the glass slippers are an injury-waiting-to-happen. But, they are also important to the way she wants to identify herself. What’s the better road to take? Let her wear the dress-up shoes and risk the possibility of a boo boo. OR, take the dress-up shoes away, and with it you take away a child’s fantasy, her sense of power, of identity.

Suddenly, I am the evil stepmother, and Cinderella is a sad little four year old who will never become a princess.

I don’t play favoritism. I charge for it. I take cash only, as you just can’t trust the credit of kids these days. My children will always know that the only true way to be a favorite in my heart is to pay me.

The real reason there are more photos of my wee one than my older one? Because the little one moves slower than the older one. Yep. That’s it. But why, besides shorter legs, does she move so slowly? Perhaps because she was held too much as a baby. Maybe her mother neglected her development by carrying her around in a sling 24 hours a day. It’s that whole attachment parenting thing, isn’t it? Yeah, you’ve been waiting with your Itoldyousos, haven’t you?

Well, we took L to the physical therapist to see if we could figure out why this child doesn’t like running much, and why she falls on her face whenever she tries. Lots of people tried to tell me that it’s just a lack of grace. I mean, genetically, she didn’t ever stand much of a chance, did she? Her father can fall over just by standing still.

We found out that our younger child has one leg that is 1/8 inch shorter than the other leg. And so, running puts her off balance, and she goes sprawling onto her face. It’s just not something I ever even considered. Yet, there it is. The physical therapist showed me the difference in length, and I felt like a complete fool. Of course. So that’s why she has that weird, jaunty little jog! Poor kid is off-kilter!

Yes, there is something we can do about it. She will be getting *inserts in her shoes very soon to take care of the imbalance and the pronation. The physical therapist thinks this may have happened as a result of the great tibia fracture of 2005. It was a key developmental time for growth, and what grows bones, you ask? Compression. And since she was favoring the leg (and in a cast for 2 months), compression didn’t happen, so the other leg got all the work and did all the growing. With the inserts, she should feel more confident in running and should fall less. Her next big growth spurt (around age 6/7) should take care of the problem. And, it’s not like she’ll live a less amazing life if it doesn’t. Do we really need to be graceful runners to have a full life?

I think I’ll sign her up for swim classes.

*The inserts issue deserves its own post, which I will write soon.