Confrontation

I know I've whined about this before, but I really do resent the fact that I'm forced to confront the worst parts of myself again and again. I feel a constant need to defend D's actions in public. "He's only two," I say to people, as they stare at his tantrum at the grocery store. "He's not even three yet," I gasp out, as I struggle to lift his flailing form and cart him off to the car from wherever we are.

Why do I care? Why do I care about what they think, say, or do? Why can't I just stand there quietly, secure in my own knowledge? WHY DO I HAVE NO GRACE?

Also, in general, why do I have such a bad case of foot-in-mouth disease? Case in point: We have people over for dinner. I've told the woman that I'm a terrible baker (although I'm a great *cook*), and so she agreed to make dessert. she brings in these little tartlets filled with chocolate and whipped cream, and I'm telling her about my past experiements with desserts. "Yeah, well, it's not even worth it to me to try to make desserts, because anything that's even a little bit fancy, Mr. WG will hate."

Yeah. So now I've either said that her dessert is not remotely fancy, or that my husband will hate it. SHUT UP WG. JUST SHUT UP. But I don't. I keep going. "No, but this, he'll like this. It's plain, I mean, it's" SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP (shoves forkful in mouth) "mmmm, so good."

Is it any wonder I have so few friends?

Oh, yeah? Well, my OTHER kid is... wait, what?

My 6-year-old was invited to a birthday party for a Boy in her class. My 6-year-old is a girl, and the only 6-year-old parties we have been to so far have been for girls. I usually go to Target, oh, an hour or so before the party and grab one of those "decorate the butterfly" kits. I race home, my husband wraps it, my daughter makes a card, and off we go.

This party was for a Boy. A 6-year-old boy. Who, actually, I think was turning 7. So I guess those other parties were 7-year-old parties, too. Apparently my daughter was one of the youngest in the class with her June birthday, and I only just now realized it.

Anyway. This party was for a Boy. And I know nothing about such children at that age. So I called his parents to RSVP and to ask the address of the place where the party is being held -- because, really, writing something that is the equivalent of MiniGolf Fun and expecting everyone to know where it is, that's a little presumptuous, don't you think? -- and then I said to his father, "You son is a Boy. And my daughter is a girl, so I have no idea what to get your son. What does he like?" After a few moments, we determined that he likes the Magic Treehouse books that my daughter also enjoys. We both commented on how the kids read them so quickly and it's impossible to keep track of what number they're up to, and so on, and then he says, apropos nothing, "Well, we had Junior tested, and he's gifted.

Um.

Where to begin?

The virtuous part of me thinks things like, I don't care. Why are you telling me this exactly? But the other part of me, well, she is trying to figure out who you call to get your kid tested.

Seriously, people, sometimes I lose all respect for myself.

Life Skills

Well, today is one of those days where I'm fairly confident that all will work out fine and that D. will live independently as an adult. I base this on the following:

I open the freezer and look for something to eat. D. sees the box of frozen fish sticks and says, "Fish sticks." I repeat this absently and move on to the pantry. D. meanwhile reopens the freezer (it's a bottom freezer) and takes a fish stick from the box. He goes to the toaster oven where such things are prepared, opens it, sticks the fish stick inside, closes the toaster oven, and turns the dial. When the bell dings a few seconds later, D. claps and says, "Yay, D! Fish stick!"

Really, what more does he need to know?

I Know that I Don't Know

So, you can see from the updated sidebar that I've named my son's syndrome on this blog. I went back and forth, but I ultimately think it's important to do so in order to help other parents who go searching for information. I realize that this means that my own family will eventually find this blog, but I'm hoping they'll respect my wish to keep this part of my life private.

Some information on D., Sotos syndrome, and the Big Picture.

Sotos Syndrome is an overgrowth syndrome, and the correct spelling does not include an apostrophe. Go ahead, do your Google searches and read what there is to read, if you care. In a nutshell: kids with Sotos are typically born with large heads (check), hypotonia (check), may have jaundice (check), difficulty breathing (check)....

From the National Institute of Neurological disorders and Stroke:

"Sotos syndrome is a rare genetic disorder characterized by excessive physical growth during the first 2 to 3 years of life. The disorder may be accompanied by mild mental retardation, delayed motor, cognitive, and social development, hypotonia (low muscle tone), and speech impairments. Children with Sotos syndrome tend to be large at birth and are often taller, heavier, and have larger heads (macrocrania) than is normal for their age. Symptoms of the disorder, which vary among individuals, include a disportionately large and long head with a slightly protrusive forehead, large hands and feet, hypertelorism (an abnormally increased distance between the eyes), and downslanting eyes. Clumsiness, an awkward gait, and unusual aggressiveness or irritability may also occur. Although most cases of Sotos syndrome occur sporadically, familial cases have also been reported."

I joined a Yahoo! group on the subject, and I've been reading the postings, though I haven't yet posted anything myself. I've noticed several distinct personality types in the group -- and I'm obviously not quoting anyone directly here:

Parents of older children with Sotos. These people have kids in their 20s and 30s, and they say things like, "If you think your kid is going to live independently one day, you are deluding yourself."

Parents of younger children who are showing significant delays. Some of these parents are realistic and say things like, "My 8-year-old just got rid of nighttime diapers and can finally ride a bike! He can say at least 50 words now, and he really enjoys his special ed classes." They recognize that this kid is, well, significantly delayed and they know that they are going to have to care for him always and face tough choices down the road. Other parents post things like, "Now that my daughter is 10, she can say about 200 phrases. We think she will be in a regular classroom next year, and we have no doubt that she will do fine." To me, this seems somewhat unrealistic, but what do I know?

Parents of younger children who have mild delays. They say things like, "My son is 3 and is starting to use 3-word phrases and talking more intelligibly. He seems to fit in well with his preschool class. He still gets speech therapy once/week, and he is much less clumsy now than he used to be."

As I read the posts, I try to keep several things in mind:

• If we hadn't moved, it's quite likely that we wouldn't have this diagnosis. Our old pediatrician noted D's height at each visit, but hadn't raised any red flags or sent us on for testing. It was only when we moved and got a new pediatrician that we started this whole route of doctors and testing. We were already doing the PT, OT, and speech even before the dx., so we were aware of the delays, but we were also noting how the gaps were closing.
  
  
• Parents of kids who are better off are going to post less. Parents of kids who do really well aren't even going to join these groups.
  
  
• Parents of kids like D. may not even know their kids have Sotos.
  

All I can do is list D's accomplishments and try to examine them objectively. At 2.5, D. is talking a lot, using 2 and 3-word phrases and combining them. His speech is becoming clearer. He plays nicely with other kids. He can ride a bike. He can pedal forwards, backwards, around corners. I only mention this because his developmental specialist is astounded every time she sees it and keeps telling me that it's a 3-year-old skill at least. He's starting to dress himself. He can follow 2 and 3-part instructions. So what does all that mean?

I don't know.

I know that I don't know a lot. It's the accepting part that I'm having trouble with.