Avery's New T-Shirt

Coming October 2012....

Big Girl Dance Class

Avery had her first "big girl" dance class today.

She has graduated from "Tots & Tutus" into "2 Year Old Ballet & Tap."  

In addition to tap dancing, the major difference between this class and her old class is that the parents no longer participate. One parent per child is allowed sit in the room against the mirror, but most of the moms sit outside in the lobby and let the kids do the class on their own.  It is actually better, as it is quieter and makes it easier for them to focus on the teacher without the distraction of so many extra people in the room.

I decided to sit inside today, just to help her make the transition. But by the end I decided that my presence did more harm than good, so next week I am kicking the little bird out of the nest and she will have to fly solo while I relax and read magazines in the lobby.

Things started out pretty well. Although Miss Kate was a new teacher for Avery, the stretching routine was the same as always, so the class felt familiar to her.

VIDEO: AVERY LISTENING AT DANCE CLASS

But somewhere around the halfway mark, Avery grew a pair of red horns and completely stopped listening. She was over in my lap every two minutes, whining for milk, wanting to take pictures with my camera, and telling me "no" when I hissed at her to go back over with the girls and listen to Miss Kate. 

Avery was the big fish in the little pond in her "tots" class, but now she is the little fish in the big pond.  She went from being the best dancer in the class to being the worst listener. She was definitely the black sheep today, and spent a good portion of the class in a corner fiddling with something on the floor or admiring herself in the mirror.

VIDEO: AVERY NOT LISTENING AT DANCE CLASS

GGRRRRRRRRRRR!

Avery's Pink Cast

Don't feel too sorry for Avery. 

Josh and I felt so sorry for her last Sunday with that big splint on her arm that we took her on a shopping spree. First to Target for a bunch of new outfits and sweaters that could fit over her cast (at least that was how I justified it), then to Toys R Us for more clothes and a new toy, and rounded it out with a trip to Payless for new tennis shoes, boots, and tap shoes (and a Tinkerbell umbrella that she decided she couldn't live without). 

This girl is SPOILED!

On Wednesday Avery and I went over to the hospital to trade the bulky splint for a pink waterproof cast.  She was a complete angel and earned herself a few stickers from the nurses.

The waiting room:

The (very minor) damage:

Off to the elevator with the new cast:

Forced to pose for a photo op by Mom outside:

The doctor said she has a buckle fracture in both the right ulna and radius, at the wrist (but not near the growth plate, fortunately). This type of fracture is an incomplete fracture, which means that it does not crack all the way across the bone. These are common in children because their bones are still soft, usually from falling on an outstretched hand (which is what happened). The doctor said that it was just the way she landed on it that caused the fracture, and not a vitamin or calcium deficiency or anything of that nature.

And as you can see, she is doing just peachy and has even started using the fingers on her right hand, which is what the doctor wants her to do. 

More fun adventures ahead, as Avery starts her "big girl" dance class this weekend!

Diagnosis: Something Real This Time

I got one of those dreaded midday calls from Lizzy yesterday. Whenever I see her name pop up on the screen of my cell phone, I immediately assume that Avery is dying and I'm about to hear the worst news of my life.  Last week I got a call from her, and naturally the panic set in before I even hit the "talk" button. She was wondering if she could take Avery to the park, since it was a nice day outside. Sigh of relief... I've got to stop doing that to myself. 

But yesterday the call wasn't about the park. She was calling to tell me that something was wrong with Avery but she didn't know what. She had been acting whiny and sluggish, and was crying off and on and only wanted to be held.  She had also only slept for 20 minutes at nap time. 

I know my kid well enough (and Lizzy does too) to know that something wasn't adding up.  I left work early to pick her up and squeeze in a quick doctor visit before the weekend.  When I arrived, Avery was lying across Lizzy's lap, and as soon as she saw me, she burst into tears. Definitely not good. We hurried off and made it to the doctor at 4:30.  She was an angel during the visit, and was examined by the nurse and doctor.  No fever, no ear infection, lungs sound clear.  I told him it was possible that between the time change this week and her lack of nap, that she was just exhausted. He added, "Yeah, and she's two."  Good point.  So I decided to put her to bed early, and left with some peace of mind.  On the way home, I thought about what I would title my blog post, as I seem to keep having the same repeat experience of visiting the doctor and finding out that she's fine, and I'm just crazy and overprotective.

But as the evening wore on, I decided to hold off on writing. My gut was telling me that this story hadn't ended yet.  And I was right.

She had trouble sleeping, and after several episodes of waking up crying, I opted to give her a little Tylenol, which did the trick. This morning, she did seem a tad better. She wanted to climb in bed with me and watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. So I snuggled with her while Josh got her cereal ready. I asked her if she wanted to go to dance class or stay home, and she said, "Dance class."

In the parking lot at dance class, I climbed into the back to get her out of her carseat. As I grabbed her right wrist to pull her hand through the strap, she burst into tears.

"Avery, does your arm hurt? Do you have a boo boo?"

"Yes."

I let her stay for class anyway, and observed her just to be sure my hunch was correct. She favored her left hand, couldn't grasp anything heavy with her right, and when the kids got down on the floor to crawl around, she wouldn't put weight on it and asked me to help her up.

So, off to Urgent Care... Again, she was an angel and the nurses cooed over her tutu and ballet shoes and what a good girl she was being. Two x-rays confirmed that Avery did, in fact, break her arm. At the wrist, in two places. 

Here's the sad, forlorn picture to make you feel sorry for her:

And here's how she's actually feeling, after a good nap and immobilization of the bones to stop the pain:

We will visit the orthopedic specialist on Monday or Tuesday to trade in the splint for a cast.

I'm hoping she chooses pink.

Uncle Aaron and Auntie Becky's Wedding

My brother got married yesterday. And it was such a perfect day! Sweet ceremony, followed by a fun and relaxing reception at the Duck Club in Irvine.  Avery was napping when the wedding started, so she and Josh met up with us at the reception.

(Also my camera was being awful and my pictures turned out yucky so I stole a sprinkling of others' photos to do some justice to how nice it really was...)

Photo credit: Beth Vogel

Aaron, seeing Becky in her dress for the first time, coming down the aisle (cue the tears):

Photo credit: Beth Vogel

Avery was enamored with Becky's princess dress and flowers.

Avery got a special dance with the bride...

And spent lots of time twirling on the dance floor!

Then (Uncle) Braedon gave the BEST Best Man speech I've ever heard.

Photo credit: Holly Wiencek

They played "Hey Jude" for Avery and she sang a little into the mic (which was turned off):

Like I said, the pictures don't do this day justice. It was truly perfect in every way.

(Except maybe this one):

Photo credit: Craig Duffy/Pink Cow Photography

Congrats you two!!!

Sienna's Party

We had yet another birthday party today, this time at BounceU, where Avery had her birthday party last year.  Avery was beyond excited, and could barely contain herself all afternoon in anticipation of "jumpers!"

And I have to say, I did a lot better today. All the kids were Avery's age, there were lots of girls and no violence, we were in a contained indoor environment with two staff supervisors and hand sanitizer dispensers mounted on the walls, and all the parents present were actively involved with their kids.  And I didn't see any snot.

Oh, and Josh was there to calm my crazy.

Avery was such a good girl. She made new friends, and listened patiently while the supervisors explained the rules.

I asked Josh to stay with her on the big slide (it's even scary for adults, me included!)

But after a couple trips down, Avery ditched him and started going by herself.

VIDEO: AVERY ON THE BIG SLIDE

VIDEO: AVERY ON ANOTHER SLIDE

The twins on the left in the photo above are the stars of the FOX TV show "Raising Hope."  And the birthday girl Sienna (wearing the Minnie Mouse ears next to Avery) was in "Desperate Housewives."  Maybe I should title this one "Avery hanging with celebs" (Ha ha)...

And yes, she touched the ears... But ate this cupcake with a fork.

How to Give Your Child OCD

I had an epiphany immediately following a children's birthday party this afternoon -

I am a complete psychomom.

Let's back up a few hours, to this morning. Josh has pretty much been MIA since Tuesday.  On Wednesday nights he has class and gets home after Avery and I are asleep. On both Thursday and Friday, he took the day off of work to meet with his group for a financial competition. They won first place a few weeks ago, so they now will be representing UCI as they go up against other universities this week for round two.  He was also gone all day today (and is still gone), and will be gone all day tomorrow. With his next class being on Monday night, I probably won't really see him until Tuesday. So it's been a little hectic trying to hold down the fort by myself, and we had an unusually busy day planned today.

Gammy joined us at dance class at 8:30 am, since I had to leave immediately after class to get my hair done in San Dimas. This was the last appointment I could get prior to my brother's wedding next weekend, so it was non-negotiable.

(I was told by the instructor that since Avery is now a veteran at this class and doing really well each week, she should move up to the bigger kids' class in March.

Wow, her first "graduation!")

After frantically securing the carseat in my mom's car and sanitizing Avery's hands after class, I hopped into my own car and took off for my hair appointment. During this time, my mom took Avery to the park, and then back to her house for lunch and a nap.

I got finished with my appointment about an hour later than I had estimated, so by the time I drove all the way back to Orange, switched the carseat again, and got us to the birthday party, we were almost two hours late. I felt awful for being so behind schedule because tardiness is very out of character for me, but I thought even if the party was winding down we could at least drop off the gifts and say hello.

When we pulled up, Avery started screeching because they had a bounce house in the front yard, and we all know how she loves to jump.  I hadn't even set the gifts or my purse down, or said hello to anyone, and there I was hunched over on the grass trying to help Avery get her shoes off so she could join the fun. 

As soon as she climbed through the flap and I lifted my head to look in on the action, my panic set in.  The birthday party was a double party for a 5-year-old boy and his 2-year-old sister. The jumper was FILLED with older, bigger, rowdy boys, who were pushing, shoving, wrestling, and throwing basketballs into the hoop inside the jumper (whoever invented a basketball hoop inside a bounce house clearly did not think it through). We had literally been at the party for three minutes, and I was standing there SHOUTING at the top of my lungs at other peoples' kids.  I must have been pretty loud, because all the kids in the jumper stopped dead in their tracks, and another mother came over next to me, scolded her boys, and said, "Sorry." 

I made no apologies for my yelling, and in fact thought it was appalling that so many parents at the party had raised such ruthless and violent little boys.  And then it got worse.  A 3-year-old boy whose face was oozing with snot and smelled like he needed a serious diaper change came up to Avery and wanted to play with her and hold her hands. My heart and brain raced as my body went into a full-fledged panic attack. Oh my God. He's going to get her sick. He's clearly sick. Why did his parents bring him here? Great, now I'm going to get sick. And we're going to wind up back at the hospital. I wonder how quickly I can coax Avery out of here to sanitize her from head to toe...

At this point, I was still wearing my purse. I still had not said hello to the hostess of the party, or to my other friend who was also there.  And I was actually trying to come up with a believable excuse so that I could swoop up Avery, bolt to the car and flee miles away from germ-infested Wrestle Mania.

I spent almost every minute of the party with my face glued to the side of the jumper, monitoring the boys and trying to protect my kid from 10 feet away. Despite getting kicked in the head once, knocked down a few times (and presumably coated with bacteria), she emerged unscathed.

(I only got a few pictures because I was too busy hyperventilating; which is fine, because seeing these pictures gives me anxiety all over again).

At some point that seemed like 9 hours later, Avery came out and was ready for cake. She has been to enough parties now to know that if it's someone's birthday, she will get to eat cake.  I went over to the food table and picked up a white cupcake for her. I located a plate, but couldn't find any utensils. I assumed that some of the things on the table may have been put away already since we had arrived late. So I went inside the house to ask the hostess for a fork. She said, "A fork? Who needs a fork?"  At that moment I scanned my memory and recalled all the items on the food table - Sandwiches, tortilla rolls, veggie sticks, fruit pieces, cupcakes....And then it dawned on me....

Finger foods...

I attempted to think quickly but answered sheepishly with the truth; "My crazy child, who won't eat anything messy with her hands...Just like her mother."

She laughed and appeased my neurosis with a plastic fork.

After double-sanitizing Avery's hands and neatly feeding her the cupcake, I got her bike out of the trunk so she could ride bikes with the other kids. And after one too many kids put their germy paws on it, my anxiety told me it was time to head home.

On the way home, I recalled the story my mom had told me briefly when I picked Avery up before the party. They had gone to the park together, and Avery had gotten a very tiny hole in her pants while playing on the playground.  Once they were back home and settling down for naptime, Avery discovered the tear and became quite concerned and obssessed with it.  Finally my mom removed the pants, got out the sewing kit and put two or three tiny stitches through the hole, reassuring Avery that she was "fixing it." As soon as the pants were returned to their original state of perfection, Avery was satisfied and fell fast asleep.

I then thought back to the party, and the past couple hours I had spent with my eyes locked on Avery, trying to keep her germ- and injury-free, while other parents laughed and socialized and ate and I judged them for neglecting their out-of-control monsters.

Are they the normal ones? Or the irresponsible ones? Am I the crazy mom that everyone is staring at and whispering about how high-strung she is? And who is right?

So it's decided: I'm a psychomom. And I'm inadvertently passing my OCD onto my child. And because of that, I will never have a parent give me a dirty look for bringing my kid somewhere with a runny nose when she should be home and not exposing others to an illness, or get a nasty glance because my kid looks unkempt and dirty. My child will never put her filthy hands in her mouth to consume messy finger foods after being inside a sweaty bounce house.

I will, however, have a (mostly) clean child who knows the importance of washing hands and being careful and courteous in play areas when smaller kids are present.  A polite kid who wants to look neat and pretty and not have clothes full of holes or stains.

And I am damn proud of it.