The physics of living a rainbow

"It's like learning physics."

That according to Beatrice's occupational therapist during her last appointment. I took her this time, wanting to witness the exercises she's put through -- learning to cross the midline better, improving fine motor schools and dexterity, and more.

Or having an apple and orange juice party with Daddy. She's more hip and fresh that way.

The Mama is witness to Bea's incremental progress every day, and while she's intellectually smart as a whip, she has struggled with some level of auditory processing disorder (APD). And that in turn has delayed various self-care activities and speech articulation, overall attention span and focus.

Not too long ago Bea struggled with potty training, dressing, stringing beads on a string, drawing a rainbow, speaking clearly, processing basic instructions -- while at the same time nailing her numbers and letters and other preschool academia as well as scoring quite high on the social butterfly scale. Kids with APD (or related diagnoses) have difficultly processing auditory signals and are visual learners.

Most children, even those with processing delays, fall into a broad spectrum of hitting developmental milestones. The big worry, one that we admit to having since Bea turned two years old, was that we were dealing with mild autism. But because of her progress and social prowess, both her speech and occupational therapists concur that's off the table, although it will take the next few years to see what other deficits might appear during grade school.

Activities like crossing the midline are critical, because when one crosses the midline, the brain begins to make new connections and the right and left hemispheres begin to work together. This communication process organizes the brain for better concentration and problem solving. 

We are going to have some more testing done this summer to rule out physical anomalies, but while I watched her during her OT appointment, I was so proud of her progress. The physics of drawing a rainbow have been mastered, and even though her speech still includes a sometimes brief frequency-tuning undecipherable phrase before nailing a sentence, she's really doing quite well.

I was especially proud of her after taking her to the Happy Hollow Park & Zoo yesterday for a sunrise animal feeding tour. She really enjoyed it, paid attention and romped just like one of the regular kids. Don't get me wrong -- it's not that she's irregular, but for any parent who has a child with any "disorder," however mild, it's thrilling when they make progress like those children without any issues.

And we rocked the toddler roller coaster! 

Beatrice's sunny disposition is the most amazing thing to be around, though. It's like she's mastered the physics of living a rainbow, something I wish I would've had more of growing up. We do hope she can carry that with her into grade school and beyond.

Bryce? Well, she's a different animal for sure -- bolder, more confident and developmentally in order than her elder sister was on the cusp of two. She's already mastered the physics of eating a rainbow. Seriously. More on that soon.

Look out world. My girls mean business.

One little victory at a time

"The measure of the moment
In a difference of degree
Just one little victory
A spirit breaking free."
--Neil Peart

Progress is incremental, made up of a series of failures to little victories, revisions and hourly referendums. But it's the daily white noise of everyday life that keeps the progress veiled until something pulls it back.

Like speech clarity, dexterity and peeing in the potty.

These little victories are highly visible connections on the toddler evolutionary lattice. Beatrice has had a slight speech delay and although we're still evaluating it, she seems to be a better visual learner, which in turn affects her dexterous learning. Her therapy and exercises to date have paid off however and she is catching up. Plus the preschool she attends is amazing -- she loves her friends and teachers and the interaction has been invaluable. Of course the Mama is the most patient teacher of all.


Hey, Bea can walk a balance beam, spoon yogurt into her mouth (and all over her face), sew yarn into a paper mitten and work an iPad better than most adults.

I have trouble putting on slip-on shoes. Jeez.

Just this morning she named all the animals on the animal show we watched together and what they were doing. Come to think of it, so did Bryce. Kind of.

"That's a duck swimming," said Bea.

"Dok!" cried Bryce.

Then without my knowledge, Bryce typed in a secret code on my Macbook:

,.;' ppp


Translation: Just one little victory, a spirit breaking free.


Right on, Baby. Except when you eat Play-Doh rather than play with it. Oh, and even though it's funny, Bryce also warned to be careful when teaching her older sister to say funky chicken.

(Queue the recent Modern Family episode.)

The fear of what we do wrong

Many of us think our own babies are the smartest babies in the world. But when anything developmentally falls behind with them, we worry that something's gone wrong.

What exactly "wrong" is we can speculate until we overcompensate and convince ourselves nothing's wrong at all, or until we're tossing and turning at night wondering what we did wrong to skew their growth progress.

Beatrice started walking at around 11 months, but she didn't crawl until 17 months. Bryce crawled between 7-8 months and walked at around 11 months. When my mother reminded me that my sister and I walked before we crawled, I didn't feel so out of sorts about Bea not crawling sooner.

Now that Bea has started preschool, which she loves, there's a real deficit that's been called to our attention, one that we already knew was there but now it stands out more amongst her toddler peers and her teachers have pointed it out as well.

She has a speech delay. What specifically that means, a maturation delay or expressive language disorder or whatever, we just don't know yet. Six months ago our pediatrician told us she was fine and already had the right pronunciation skills for her age, but she hasn't progressed much since.

Now, she has normal intelligence and comprehension (if not above normal -- she is the smartest toddler in the world you know), normal hearing, good emotional relationships and normal articulation skills. In fact, even the speech therapist she saw this week concurred on all those points. And when we talk about Bea in front of her about not talking enough, her level of communication kicks up a notch.

However, Bea just doesn't string as many words together into three-word+ sentences as other children do at three years old. Bea still has to have a comprehensive evaluation with the speech therapist next month and will more than likely be going to her for the next few months.

What throws people who meet her for the first time is that she's tall for her age; she's mistaken for upwards of four years old. But when she talks, it's more baby-like than clear and simple phrases others her age speak. We've been told more than once that she most likely regressed when Bryce was born and this speech delay has slowed potty training too. Ack.

When Bea was only a few months old our pediatrician requested we get an ultrasound of her head because it was in the very high percentile of size for her young age. The results showed that her brain ventricles were enlarged but there was no other action taken by the doctors. The traumatic birth her and Mama went through included the vacuum on Bea's head that popped off two times before we got her out the third time (a Caesarean was next), so who knows if that had something to do with it early on, but at this point we may never know if any permanent damage was done.

We've always talked with Beatrice and read her stories and told her stories. She even learned sign language early on and still signs please when we ask her to say please. Yes, she watches TV and plays games, watches videos and reads stories on our, I mean her iPod and iPad, but we're also very active and engaging outside as well, always verbal, always loving.

For me and a past that occasionally haunts, there's always the fear of what we do wrong with our children, when all we ever want is for them is to be all right.