Mary Poppins???

I am going to hire a nanny.  I said it.

Little liberal me, with the blue spandex superwoman costume....a freakin' nanny.

Laugh all you will, but bear with me as I explain the changin' times....

The Demie Diva starts Kindergarten this year.  She will be attending a Waldorf School.  It will be quiet - she's thrilled - and designed to help her find her way as best she can.  (Assuming she makes it for the 30 days she gets to learn to follow the rules!)  They really only do 1/2 day K, but the students can go till 3 in the enhanced program.  With early drop-off so that I can get back to work, that range of time encompasses the ADHD meds' efficacy.

She has a boost that we can administer.  Of course, the instructions will have to be time specific...and, oh, wait, during the regular school day...which ends at 3...

Yeah, this falls under not feasible.

I can't leave work till 4.  Her school is 30 minutes away.  This is a recipe for disaster.

OR....

I can hire someone who can pick her up...every day.  The same someone who can then bring her home (where it's quiet) and play with her till I get home.  Who can stay with her on the nights (one of every seven school nights this year) I have study hall duty.  Who can be there (possibly) during those weeks that I am in school and she is not so that the NOISE at her preschool doesn't have to be thrust at her while they take care of her for the couple weeks I need drop in care.

I know I need to move north.  Shut up, Bicicleta Mamma.  That isn't happening this year, so this is my other option.


Now, really, for her to do that would set her back...and for all that my summer's been majorly ADHD, it has also been a summer of consistency and peace for the Demie Diva.  Why would I screw that up with something that I KNOW will have an adverse impact?

The XH is not as on board with this as I'd like him to be (for the Demie Diva's sake) but that is more because hiring a nanny is something I will do that has the potential to demonstrate to everyone his own inability to step up beyond what is convenient for him.  It also will force him to  necessitate that he hands over the booster seat that I bought for carpool last year and go out and get his own. (heh, heh, heh)


Am I at all confident in this course of action?  Oh yes.  Given that I have felt my stress level reduce simply with the THOUGHT of not having the Demie Diva in extended care in the afternoon, I would say that's a heck yeah!

Now, these people just need to respond to my phone calls!

Paradoces are fun

wow.  are you underwhelmed by two posts in consecutive days? 

Don't be.  This one is kinda gross.  

One of the coolest things about parenting a child with special needs is that perspective becomes what we might call skewed.

A bit of background.  DD had a godawful day at my parents' place.  A screaming, contrary, ugly, horrible day.  Alexander's day was NOTHING to this one.   (Sorry, Judith Viorst, but it wasn't!)  We both could see the Demie Diva in the alternative school, the "resource room", the ... NOWHERE that a child of her native smarts needs to be, to be honest.

It was also as if I were seeing her birthmother's educational background unfolding in front of me.  And, to be honest I was damned if I was going to see that start to unfold...or unravel.  This was one of those moments adoptive parents have, in which they understand...as if someone has hit them with a 2x4 to the head bold from the blue...WHY their child is theirs.  

The puzzle of the child's brain has always been fascinating to me in my professional life.  Figuring out how kids learn, and how they succeed in school has always been one of the greatest joys of my chosen calling.  

But I never thought I'd have to bring it all to bear raising my child.  sigh

After the terrible day, I called her neurologist and said "we've got to do something".  So...devil drug reduced again.  Lovely drug adjusted.  And thank God for high school classmates.  My current favorite is now a pediatric neurologist in the Hudson Valley.  I've been bouncing things off of him because..well, he's younger than the Demie Diva's neurologist which makes him a tad more receptive to the "gray" area of complementary stuff.

B6 baby.  Residual rages have stopped.  Stinker hissy fits are now age appropriate.  She's starting to follow directions.  AND...she's wet the bed a couple of times.

I know...eew.

Here's the paradox:  

The Demie Diva has not slept deeply since her epilepsy manifested itself.  Since fatigue is one of her triggers, her poor little brain just fires away.  Fatigue, as I know from my own ADHD brain, also exacerbates ADHD.  Recipe for horrible days in the making.

If she's wet the bed, then she's sleeping deeply.  If she's sleeping deeply, then she's resting.  If she's resting, then her brain is quiet.

Paradoces.  

Gotta love 'em.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled life

This blog was interrupted for a brief vacation to what should have been the pleasantly cool state of my birth.  Okay, cool is relative.  I understand that for some of my readers 85 degrees wouldn't be cool...but for me...down here in 90-something and humidashell with dewpointsthatmakeyousweatat5am   85 is lovely.

Shame it didn't happen.

106 in Minnesnowta?  Okay then.

The Demie Diva and I left on our birthday, and were at the Diva Grandparents' home by 11 am.  And napped (with a battle of wills) by 3.  The pilot wished the Demie Diva a Happy Fifth Birthday as we arrived in Minneapolis, and her eyes were HUGE - how on EARTH did he know?

Once we got to Grandma's house, it was non-stop family.  The Awesome Auntie and Analytical Uncle had to postpone B's three-year birthday party due to a plethora of end of May conflicts.  So...between June 30 and July 4, we had FOUR big social engagements - three of which involved my sister's house, one of which involved my parents' home with a sitter.

I've mentioned elsewhere, my sister is a very calm person, whose structured life is rigid to the point of documenting bodily functions of the baby, M, and measuring the milk intake of B.  OCD much?  This is great, but, really, really stressful on both the Demie Diva and the Diva Maman.  There is a plethora of things to explore, new toys to play with, a basement with princesses requiring dancing (that they are part of my sister's Doulton collection and accessible makes me GRAY, I tell you) and so on.  The idea that I raised my voice and snapped at the Demie Diva ... well, suffice to say I was chastised with my name and a tone of voice that would make a five year old cry.

Bless the Diva Grandma, who sat with my sister one day, and told her flat out that she had NO idea what life with the Demie Diva and her various issues was like.  I think I may hug my mother.  Or my father...both of whom (with the weird synergy of a 45-year married couple) told me flat out "I don't know how you do it.  You're doing a great job."

Coming from the people who raised me, that is way cool.

Also way cool?

Wading pools.  The 1950-s era suburban park pools with the 1 foot depth, the peeling paint, and the ability to make a five year old think she's Dara Torres.  There aren't very many left, and one is a few miles from my parents' home.  We were able to take the Demie Diva and B to the pool.  Each got braver.  Each outdid themselves - and tried to outdo each other.

And when she got home, the Demie Diva looked at me and said "Mom, we need to go back to Minnesota."

Workin' on it, babe.