To be the Queen of Chaos, you have to be a little warped.

Posts tagged ‘speech delay’

When Did The World Stop Revolving Around Me?!

I know that sounds really snotty and self-important, but I don’t mean it in that sense.  I mean it can be hard for me to accept that the Important Stuff in my little corner of the universe is pretty insignificant to everyone else.  I wish the situations that matter most to me would always go my way.

Hmm… that still sounds a bit Veruca Salt-ish.  I’d better cite an example.

My youngest child has a speech delay.  Her whole story is for another post, but for the past 3 months we have been doing everything possible to help her catch up while understanding her limitations and their causes.  This has included numerous visits to multiple specialists, many of whom have full calendars that are booked out weeks in advance.

Today was supposed to be our first visit with a recommended developmental pediatrician.  An hour before Jasmine’s scheduled time, the office called to say the doctor had a family emergency and would have to cancel his appointments for the day.

I know emergencies happen.  I know doctors are people too.  I know people can’t be in two places at once.  I know family comes first.  Still… why the hell did this have to happen on MY kid’s day?  Every developmental expert will testify that early, expeditious intervention is a key component in successful treatment of delays in young children.  Therefore, my (admittedly irrational) gut response to this situation was,


Logic tells me that this minor delay should not impact Jasmine at all.  It also tells me that this doctor did not intentionally try to ruin my day, nor is he likely to have reason to want to disrupt my daughter’s care.  That’s the concept I was alluding to earlier – my little Jazzy isn’t even on his radar in the grand scheme of things.  It’s not because of cold indifference; it just isn’t his life, so it isn’t his priority.

It’s like home videos.  We could all watch videos of our own kids for hours, couldn’t we?  Reliving those precious moments, getting to see those cherubic faces that have since changed with age – ah, bliss.  Other people’s home movies on the other hand… not so much.  Maybe a really funny one, or a few minutes of their vacation footage, just to be polite.  After a while, though?  Yawn – right?  Not my family, not my kids, not my vacation = not nearly as interesting to me as it is to you.

Sometimes it’s a good thing.  It helps to remind myself of that when I’m having a bad self-image day and I have to go to the mall or my daughter’s dance class.  Chances are, no one is paying nearly as much attention to me, my clothes, my hair, my ass, etc. as I think they are.  Most people do not notice random minute details like I tend to do.  Nobody will remember that I wore the same shirt yesterday because I’m behind on laundry.

When it comes to my children, however, all rational thought seems to escape me.  I have to work hard to stay calm and remember that this, too, shall pass.  Because what am I going to do, storm into some poor unsuspecting doctor’s office and scream, “I WANT IT NOOOOW, DADDY!!!!”?

Don't care how, I want it now.

I reserve the right to do that if it happens again, though.  Just sayin’.



Mama Don’t Preach

I grew up largely in the 1980s, and was probably about Belle’s age when I really started to discover pop music.  One of my first loves was Madonna.  Her music, her style, her confidence – I thought it was, to use an authentic 80s era phrase, “totally awesome”.  I got her Like A Virgin cassette (!!) for my birthday around that time.

I know my mother absolutely cringed at most of Madonna’s work.  To her, Madonna’s aggressive sexuality was vulgar, her videos were inappropriate, and she wasn’t even that talented.  I’m sure she died a little inside knowing her oldest child was listening to song lyrics such as, “Like a virgin, touched for the very first time” before leaving elementary school.

You know that cliché that says you’ll have children someday and face the same problems you once created for your own mother?  What goes around does indeed come around – except Madonna has kind of slipped quietly into the background of the music business, to be replaced in my kids’ lives by Lady Gaga.

The twist, however, is that I actually like Lady Gaga.  For me, a lot of her music evokes nostalgic feelings about dancing in clubs in my early 20s, few responsibilities weighing on me and preventing me from downing another Technicolor shot served in a test tube.  Certainly not all of her music is lyrically profound, but I love the message in “Born This Way”, which is all about self-acceptance and tolerance.  “I’m beautiful in my way, ‘cause God makes no mistakes” – how many of us want our kids to internalize that message, right?

So I pick and choose my battles – they can listen to certain songs with lyrics that have passed my approval test.  I don’t let them watch the videos, because while I can appreciate Gaga’s desire to push the envelope and be creative, her videos are too sexual, and sometimes even a bit too scary, for my kids to see until they are MUCH older.  (We’ll see how long I can maintain control over that.)

It’s kind of neat to bond with my kids over pop culture.  My parents and I found occasional media to mutually appreciate, but music was almost never a place where we could connect.  They recoiled at the Metallica blasting from my bedroom while I rolled my eyes and sighed dramatically through long car rides spent serenaded by James Taylor.

Today, my girls and I form a bona fide trio in the car together, unashamedly singing about our “P-P-P-Poker Face” and rolling our Rs in “Alejandro”.  It’s really pretty cool – or, it will be until my singing starts to embarrass them and they tell me to shut it.  I am always on the lookout for popular songs with positive messages that I’m happy to share with my daughters.  (“Firework” by Katy Perry and “Fuckin’ Perfect by Pink – don’t worry, I have the clean version!! are other current faves.)

Now if I can just get little Jasmine in on the action… she has a speech delay, but I bet with patience I could teach her “Rah rah ah-ah-ah, Ro mah ro-mah-mah, Gaga ooh-la-la”.