The Struggle is Real/Second Graders are Jerks…

The last few weeks have been a challenge to my sanity. Every year, we go through the same sort of cycle with the 8-year-old; beginning around spring break, her attitude and behavior go downhill and continue on that path through summer, up until school starts again. She cops an attitude if I say something as simple as, “The sky is blue.” or “Dinner will be ready in about 15 minutes.” She takes things that aren’t hers. She refuses to clean her messes or follow simple directions. (i.e. “Yes, you may play in our yard – but stay in our yard.”) She chops the hair off of her dolls. (This has, indeed, become an annual thing.) And, this year, we’ve added in a problem with hoarding garbage and stealing even more junk food than in previous years.

I’m sore. I’m tired. I pulled or strained something in my back. There’s a pinched nerve in my hip/lower back. I had a cold for 2 weeks solid and it’s still not totally gone. I’m 37 weeks pregnant and Little Man is not going to be a tiny baby… I’m dyin’ here just based on that; not even factoring in a willful toddler or this 8-year-old circus. So, when the circus gets going full blast…uhm, let me off, please.

Her dad and I decided that we would run her by the doctor’s office next week and see about having a few things checked out; he’s concerned for a family history of diabetes on both sides and the notorious Flint water. I wonder if a mild UTI isn’t causing some of her “I must go to the bathroom right! NOW! Or I’m going to act like a fool!” issues out in public. (Maybe she’s just being a jerk…that’s my gut feeling on it, TBH. But if I don’t get it checked out and it turns out to be an issue…then I’m the jerk.) But now it also seems that we need our doctor to reassure that she is NOT “too skinny.” *sigh*

To rewind and get the larger picture, there’s a girl that lives in the apartments across the street from the house we rent who as been a pain since the first week of school. Little A is, apparently, an aspiring doctor herself. -_- Big Girl has a spot of dry skin on her upper, inner thigh (part of me still wants to know how this became public knowledge because of the placement, but I’ll try to just chalk that up to our M not being the most lady like of girls and leave it at that for my sanity…). We have been to the doctor’s over it. It is not a “rash.” It is not “contagious.” But Little A, Ph.D. begs to differ and turned into a rumor and even blamed Big Girl for someone else getting a rash. Big Girl, unfortunately, feels the need to be friends with everyone though and, unfortunately, pushed the issue with Little A, in spite of me telling her not and one of the older boys from the bus even pointing out (at least once) that Little A was being unnecessarily rude.

Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, the girls were suddenly “friends.” *eyebrow up* I didn’t tell M not to be her friend, but I made it clear that I found this change of heart suspicious and that cheetahs don’t often change their spots… Of course, I’m mom so I know nothing and she insisted this girl was now a saint. Okie dokie!

Earlier this year, M’s dad voiced concern, not just over Little A, but also M’s other friend from further up the street who seems to have been jealous that M was now friends with Little A and was passing around a rumor that Little A was making out in the hallways with a boy. They’re all around 8-years-old, though given what I’ve seen on my trips into the school and of children just a bit older than these…I don’t know that I totally dismiss it, but it also seems plausible that this third party was being malicious too. M’s dad didn’t think it was a great idea to hang out with either of these girls and also told her do, however…he’s dad. He might know more than me, but…M is determined to be friends with everyone. *rubbing temples*

I didn’t see this going in a positive direction, though as M’s dad pointed out last night, if we tell her not to be friends with someone, it turns into just that much more juicy of a thing and she will go out of her way to cling to them. So…I let it go. Over this past weekend, she was outside playing with Little A when she broke the, “stay in our yard,” rule for the second time in a week and I was just over it. Being so close to the Canadian border we hear a lot about kidnappings (of children and adult women) for sex trafficking. I don’t want to keep her locked inside 24/7, but I do want to be able to easily locate her and if she’s running the length of the street and hiding behind tall, thick bushes at the apartment complex? I can’t do that. So, after the second time, she was called in and told to stay in.

Apparently, she took this to mean, “But open your window and yell out to your friends still!” -_- Uhm, no. When that didn’t work, she tore out the screen on her window to further hang out of her window and speak in a slightly lower tone of voice to Little A, who also came to stand in our flower bed in order to further help her break the rules. -_- (And give me shit face until I literally spelled it out for her that she needed to go home. I don’t like the kid, period. Everything else aside, she’s just got that…pinched up little face that seems to convey very clearly that she’s a mean little kid and she’s likely going to grow up to become a mean adult too.)

M is now telling her dad that the reason she has been stealing and eating every.single.danged. sweet that she can get her hands on is that Little A has launched a full-on attack claiming M is “too skinny.” Including the claim that her mom “is a doctor” to support her assertion of this. 1.) A and M are roughly the same build. WTH? 2.) The apartments across the street are income subsidized. I’m not judging, but if there’s a legit doctor living over there? I’m a nuclear physicist… 3.) Furthermore, M was just to our doctor a few months ago. There was no concern for her weight or growth otherwise.

I’m a bit over it and planning on sticking out the next three months with her basically being grounded and not allowed to go outside unless she’s with an adult. I can’t make her leave Little A and her nasty self alone, but I can limit their interactions and time spent alone for her to rag on M…while taking her to the doctor, again, to affirm that she is not “too skinny.” ^.^

Did I mention that I’m tired and in pain and completely over all of this nonsense?? Urgh.

 

Epic Fails & Roller Coaster Rides…

Shortly after my last check in, we had an ultrasound. The tech gave me a weird vibe, but didn’t say anything and we didn’t immediately get a call from the doctor, so we kinda just rolled with it. Three days later, they did call and informed me I was being sent back out to the specialist that we saw a few times last year. It would take two more days to find out why; Baby Sylis has an enlarged ventricle in his brain. It wasn’t massively so, but they wanted to be sure that it wasn’t a larger issue.

We endured more ultrasounds and awkward small talk with techs and met with the specialist. His answer was that he had no answers and what I’d already researched was true: it could end up being nothing or it could press into extreme brain damage. He was sending us an hour away to another hospital for a fetal MRI and more specialists and pulling blood work.

Last Monday we drove the hour each way to Ann Arbor to the other hospital, went through their ultrasounds, were basically given the same, “We don’t really know…it could be 50 different things and 50 different shades of serious or not…” answer, and then told that they’d failed to schedule the fetal MRI and we’d need to come back again next week for that. I’m trying not to be salty about it, but…I am a little. Our whole day revolved around that appointment and the woman that was in charge of making the appointments wasn’t the least bit sorry for the confusion.

The positive news was that they did not see any damage to his liver that would usually occur with the various infections that they would be concerned about (my blood test results still hadn’t come back yet at that point. I need to call the hospital here on Monday and try to find out about those.), nor did they see anything else wrong on ultrasound that would indicate anything else that they typically see in more serious cases. They want to continue to monitor it and we’ve opted to go back for the MRI, but so far…nothing throws flags for it being something big and ugly that will lead to brain damage.

I feel like I’ve said all of this 100 times, but it’s all been broken up into little bits and pieces here and there and I wanted to collect it all in one place for reference. And then there’s what I haven’t really covered elsewhere: I’ve felt like a damned wreck.

The whole pregnancy has been stressful. Everything from the MMR vaccine that I shouldn’t have had, to deal with my depression and anxiety, to wondering if we’re doing the right thing by even having another baby right now… On one hand, my body hates me and waiting to try when I’m older isn’t going to do us any favors. We also both very much wanted a little boy too. On the other hand, my PPD was just starting to get a little better and Baby Girl is a handful of a toddler if there ever was one…the idea of adding a totally healthy baby to the mix was a little daunting to start with. The idea of adding a special needs baby to the already demanding mix of things…broke me. Even with no solid reason to believe that there’s anything wrong at this point now…I still don’t feel like myself.

In short: not much in the way of progress has been made in my little corner of the world and I’m just barely holding it all together as much as I am. (Very little.) The house is a mess. Everything is behind. I spent more than I should have on clothes and shoes because it was just too easy to zone everything else out in favor of some online shopping. I haven’t put up any Easter decorations yet for the kids. This week was Big Girl’s spring break and we’ve done nothing (at least partly because, oh, yes, it decided to snow yesterday! Whoooo wants to go to the beach?!). My birthday is in a week and I know Hubby wants to do something for it and…aside from kinda having a craving for

My birthday is in a week and I know Hubby wants to do something for it and…aside from kinda having a craving for hibachi again…I don’t know what to tell him. I want steak and a nap. Maybe a massage. A few hours without a toddler climbing me like I’m one of those rock walls at the playground, complete with using my kidneys for foot holds. We’ve made zero plans for Easter. I have plastic eggs and I’ll get some candy or something for inside of them so that the kids can hunt them and there will be food…but…that’s kinda…it. I’m just trying to keep my head – or at least my nose…I can make do with just that…) above water until (1) Baby Boy is here and (2) things have settled into a routine after his arrival.