Skunked

I finally get a night out with the girls and come home to a dog that has been sprayed by a skunk! The one night my husband is in charge and this is what happens. Now I know why I never go anywhere. lol

Since it happened on his watch I made hubby give the dog a bath. I found a recipe for de-skunkifying a dog online so he gave it a try. Afterward I went out to sniff the poor guy to see if he was allowed back in the house. Nope, still stinky. So mama had to step in and take matters into her own hands. Armed with a bottle of vinegar and some mandarin orange body wash, I set out to prove to my husband why, after seven years of marriage, he should still appreciate his wife. Now our dog smells like a pickle! But hey, a pickle smells better than a skunk, right? I think so too.

Casts, casts, casts and more casts

Yesterday I took Thomas in to the physical therapist who has been doing his serial casting. I was so sure he wouldn't need another set. In fact I was hoping like heck he wouldn't. I am so tired of the casts. They make every little thing just a little harder, and in our world we don't need things a little harder. Why can't something out there make our life just a little easier? Anyway, I'm getting off track. So she did decide to put on a new set of casts. She said even though both feet are at +2, she wants to try doing it one or two more weeks. I don't understand why. His new braces are in, I'm dedicated to making him wear them as long as I can each day. I'm ready to move on to the braces and practicing with his walker. Why is she holding us back?

I'm sure she is thinking in terms of what is in the best interest of Thomas. I respect that. But it's been nine weeks now. Nine long weeks of not being able to put him in the bathtub, having to buy new clothes that will fit over the casts, blisters, legs rubbed raw, and the added weight for me to carry around. Also, I don't know if any of you have ever tried to change a diaper on a child who has two very heavy casts on his legs, it is not easy.

Yeah, I know, poor me right? What really matters is that Thomas couldn't care less about the casts. He acts as if they aren't even there. I wish I could have his attitude. And more than just in this instance. If I had his disposition and outlook on life I would be a much happier person. This child is usually smiling, laughing, and finding joy in the most basic and strangest places. He doesn't sweat the small stuff. I really need to take a page from his book.

Just Our Luck

A few months ago I tried to get Thomas into an intensive therapy program called Europeds. There are only 2 or 3 centers in the entire United States and we just happen to live less than two hours from one of them. At the time the waiting list was extremely long, but we were put on it and patiently waited to get the call.

Meanwhile our new physiatrist got on the ball. He gave Thomas botox injections in his legs, has him being casted and going through physical and occupational therapy, and wrote a prescription for a new set of AFO's (leg braces).

Our insurance company will only cover 60 consecutive days of therapy per YEAR. So however many visits we can fit in a year is all we get. They consider the casting as therapy so that takes away from his 60 consecutive days.

Well, today I got the call from Europeds, they have reached our name on the waiting list. We have just one more full week of therapy available through our insurance though. I am beyond bummed about this. I have heard such great things about Europeds and seen some amazing videos on their website. It makes me so mad that they finally have room for us and we don't have the means to cover the expense.

They have put us back on the list for the first of the year, when our insurance replenishes the 60 days. I am going to make sure I have all my ducks in a row for when the time comes so I don't have to fight with my pediatrician over the referral for this therapy. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he can get in in January 2008.

The First Day of School

Tuesday, September 4th was the first day of school. What a change from last year for mom. I was actually looking forward to it this year. It went surprisingly smooth. Thomas, as usual, cried when I got him dressed. He always does that because he hates to leave the house. I can't say as I blame him since he normally is off to a doctor or therapist where he is poked, prodded, man-handled, and whatever else they do to torture the poor kid. Once he was dressed I wheeled in the stroller and he stopped crying. I don't normally wheel in the stroller unless it is a school day, and I think he knew that even though he had a three month break to try to forget. He happily sat in the stroller for a few minutes before we headed outside. Once outside he patiently waited with his headphones blasting the Wiggles, a book in his lap, and a sucker in his mouth.With the bus I expected tears, but I was pleasantly surprised. Not a single tear. No whining, no crying, no frowny-face, nothing. No smile either, but hey, anything is better than tears.

Thomas is going to the same school as last year, same bus driver, same teacher, same classroom, different classmates.

Therapy makes him sad.

Poor Thomas. Poor Mom. This is the face I have to look at while we are on our way to therapy. As soon as Thomas sees a certain landmark on the drive to therapy he pulls this face. It is the saddest face I have ever seen in my life and it breaks my heart that I am partially at fault for causing it. It's not that he doesn't like therapy. Once we get there and the therapist comes out for him, he is generally happy. He has fun back there, really he does. So why the sad face? I wish I knew, I wish he could tell me, I wish he didn't need therapy, I wish I wish I wish... But it is what it is and he has to go. So four days a week I try not to look in the rearview mirror. And four days a week I fail, I look, and my heart breaks a little each time.