On being thorough.

Today my youngest son and I visited a new pediatrician. Specifically, a behavior pediatrician. I like our regular doctor, he's a nice kid, (I can totally say that, he's at least ten years younger than me) but he's a generalist, and we're reaching the point where we really needed someone more specifically familiar with the issues we are facing, primarily ADHD. (The pediatrician we had for years, who was my pediatrician as a child and had seen absolutely everything, retired last year.)

So we made an appointment with this new doctor, and because of a cancellation, got in almost immediately. And this morning, my son and I spent two hours with her in her office, going over everything that's happened in the last year, what worked and what didn't and why, and came up with a plan for moving forward.

First of all, I have never in my life sat down with a doctor for two hours straight. I've seen therapists where you know you have 50 minutes, so you do feel like you at least have their attention for that period of time, but most of the time when you see a doctor, they have one hand on the doorknob the entire time. This doctor was relaxed, ready to hear our entire story start to finish, talked me both me and my son (although I let him play on my phone for most of the time, partly to keep him busy and partly so he'd not be overly focused on the negative aspects of the conversation that needed to be said.)

I was really impressed with this doctor. I felt like she listened, offered ideas, and together we arrived at a decision with which I am very comfortable. I guess my take away here is this: trust your instincts, and get another doctor when you feel you need one. Again, I like our regular pediatrician, he's very nice, very laid back, the boys like him. We will continue to see him for our regular pediatric needs - sick visits and physicals. But as a generalist, and one with only a few years of experience at that, he just doesn't have the depth of knowledge that we needed here.

Here's the funny thing: the new doctor? Who is super thorough? Her name is Dr. Therou.

Generation Tech.

I sat down to write a post for Tuesday, but got distracted by my google reader. I don’t have time to read all of the blogs I love anymore. I am somewhat loathe to admit that I scan for interesting post titles and then just delete everything else. I am a zero inbox kind of person. Well, not exactly ZERO zero, but I don’t like unread messages sitting there, either in email or in my blog reader. If it’s bold, I either click on it to read it, delete it, or occasionally, especially in email when I don’t have time to scan through and delete all the hundreds of last minute SALE ENDS TODAY emails I seem to always get on Monday mornings, I select all and just hit “mark as read.” But at least they aren’t bolded.

My husband has 792 unread emails in his gmail inbox. This makes my head explode. He only clicks on the ones he wants to read, and lets everything else just sit there taking up space. (For the record, clutter is not really a problem for him. My husband is the guy who keeps receipts for McDonald’s, not in an organized OCD filed way, mind you, but crumpled up and tossed on the kitchen counter and in cupholders of cars and coat pockets and it really shouldn’t surprise him that he can’t ever find his wallet and his ID badge for work, and yet, it does.) But for email, he doesn't like expending energy just to delete something when he is capable of ignoring it.

My ten year old, who is more and more like me everyday, is definitely a zero inbox kind of guy. I tell him he doesn’t have to delete an email as soon as he reads it, but since he’s only getting emails from other ten year old boys that say things like “POKEMON 4EVERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR” I guess there’s not much point in trying to explain it.

The kid also deletes texts and missed calls from his phone. He can’t stand to have it flashing “missed call” at him, so he calls the number back, hangs up before he gets an answer, and then is able to delete the entire exchange. I’m not sure about the call back part, but I’ve seen him texting friends, and then deleting immediately.

I’m not particularly worried about it, however. This is not a kid hiding something. This is a kid who cannot lie. Oh, he tries, but he’s so stinkin’ bad at it I just look at him sideways and he gives it all up. Recent example:

“Mom, can I have more cake?”
“Um, no, you just get one piece.”
“But I haven’t had any yet?”
“Really? Because you just asked if you could have MORE.”
“...”
“Nice try, dude.”

So I’m not really worried about submersive texts between ten year olds who all just got phones because us moms are tired of texting each other when we want our kid to return home for dinner. Now I just text the kid. And he understand, very clearly, that he either shows up at the door inside of about three minutes, or he loses the phone.

Technology rules.

Denial, part 2.

While we're on the subject of kids and school milestones, I got an email from the school district the other day that took me by complete surprise. The subject seemed harmless, it simply said "Fifth Grade Information." My oldest is in fifth grade, so okay, this made sense. I clicked.

Liar Liar McLiarpants, it was not fifth grade information. It was SIXTH GRADE information, for current fifth graders. As in, my oldest kid is going to middle school next year, and now is the time I have to start filling out enrollment forms and taking tours and parent classes about how they teach math these days in middle school.

I've written before about how easy it was to send my kids off to kindergarten. (Yes, that's a livejournal link. Is where I started blogging originally. Don't judge.) I have always been a working mom, and so kindergarten was a welcome respite in my pocketbook from the costs of preschool and daycare. It helped, to be sure, that my oldest was 5 going on 40 when he went to kindergarten, and on the very first day when I walked him to the classroom door, he ran inside, took his place on the circle rug, and never looked back to see if I was still standing there.

But middle school is different. I don't know why it's freaking me out more than I expected. It might be because my ten year old is very small for his age, like 2 percentile small, almost the same size as my eight year old. So he doesn't really seem like he should be going to middle school. I look at the kids in the neighborhood who are in middle school and they seem like giants, nearly adults, next to my kid.

Of course, it might also be bothering me because middle school starts an hour earlier. We are not exactly morning people around here.

But I have to face it, regardless. I have to take the tour, and learn how this new math works. It's going to happen, whether I'm ready or not.

Boys and hygiene: like oil and water. Lots and lots of oil.

Remember when your little ones were so excited for that evening ritual of bathtime? When they couldn't wait to finish dinner so everyone could all run upstairs and strip off their clothes and climb in that big, bubbly hot, toy-filled tub of joy and splash around for a while, getting clean in the process?

Well, it ends. Especially with boys. They no longer long to be clean. They no longer care. They are too busy playing Nerf gun wars in the backyard or building intricate lego sets to be bothered with bathing, putting on clean socks, or for that matter, pajamas. Sometimes they sleep in their clothes. Nowadays all I hear when I suggest it's time for the bath or shower is whining. Now that my kids are a little more self-sufficient, (or at least I thought they were) I find myself saying things like, "when was the last time you used shampoo?" and "dude, you are ripe."

And what do I hear back from them? "Um, do I need to change my underwear?"

YES! This is a question that needs to be asked?

My friends with teens tell me it changes again soon, the pendulum swings back again, and then you cannot get them OUT of the shower.

I look forward to that. I think.