It's So Simple Really

Lately, we've been taking Elliot to Target to practice walking in her gait trainer because we do not have the room in our condo for her to move around much. It's great because there are so many things for her to look at while she walks around and there's so much space for her to move freely. Most of the time, we are ignored by the other customers. Once in a while, we get a smile or a curious stare.

The other day, Rob joined us on one of our Target therapy trips. He noticed a little girl, about 8-years-old, looking at Elliot. She said to her mom, "I'm scared to go by her. It's sad." Her mom, of course, was instantly upset. I heard her tell the girl, "You never, ever say something like that." Then, rather than lecture the girl or drag her away, the mom approached us. She stumbled for the right words as she asked what Elliot's condition was called. We gave her the brief synopsis about Arthrogryposis and explained to her that Target has so much more space for Elliot to move around in her walker. The mom smiled and told us how her daughters don't have much room to run around at their house as well. She said something about how cute Elliot is, and, they walked away.

I appreciate the simple effort that mom took to teach her daughter a lesson in that moment. By her actions, she showed her daughter that my daughter was not someone to be scared of. In that brief conversation, her daughter was able to see that we smiled when talking about Elliot. I hope she could see that we weren't sad.

I have had so many instances of children looking at Elliot and saying things like "That's so sad," "What's wrong with her?", "Why does she have to wear those?", "What are those things on her knees?" In many cases, I'm able to get to them first before their parents do and talk to them. I love talking to kids, and I'll answer any question they have, even if it sounds rude. If their parents are right there, though, they always stifle the kids' questions. They tell them to leave us alone, don't say things like that. They drag their kids away, sometimes apologizing on behalf of their children. They are effectively teaching their children that they should be scared to talk to us.

I don't want my daughter to grow up thinking people are scared of her. I want her to know it's okay to talk to people and answer their questions. Going to Children's Hospital LA all the time, I'm sure she'll have questions of her own one day. She already shares her therapy time with the post surgery kids in the big gym at the hospital. I want her to know that she doesn't need to be afraid of the other kids in the hospital just like I want other kids to know that they don't have to be afraid of her. And, her life is definitely not sad.

Interesting?

For all you dating women out there: when you meet a man your considering for the long run, I have a test for you to try out on him. When there's a quite moment, you say, "Did you know that Jay Z and Beyonce are apparently Devil worshippers?" If he is not interested at all, drop him immediately because that's a crazy story and we've got to get to the bottom of this.

Thank you, Yo Gabba Gabba

For the first four months of Elliot's life, we stretched her multiple times throughout the day, and I took her to CHLA for weekly splint adjustments. I'm not going to lie; it was all awful, all of the time. She cried. We cried. We were hurting our child on purpose every day, and we were continually being told that we had to do more of it. Sigh.

One day, though, an angel appeared. He was sang sweetly as he drifted through the sky, "Do you want to be my friend, my friend?" And, Elliot answered, "Yes, I will be your friend." Well, I'm assuming that's what she was thinking when she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at big red balloon on "Yo Gabba Gabba." Being the good mom that I was, I made sure that my baby didn't watch preschool shows, but magical things can happen when kids go to friends' houses and moms feel more like socializing than parenting. (Now, for the sake of honesty, I am going to admit that Elliot did watch "Law and Order: SVU" but, sadly, Benson and Stabler did not appeal to her in any way). 

When we got home from our friends' house, I immediately showed my husband the show. Elliot froze again. She was entranced. Later, we tested stretching her during the show, and it worked. She didn't cry at all. In fact, she sometimes looked like she was smiling. We had found it: the key to our sanity. If we could get her to always be happy while we were stretching her, maybe we could make some progress with those muscles. 

It's been 15 months now, and "Yo Gabba Gabba" still works like baby crack. The key for us is that she (mostly) only watches the show during stretching and splinting. We make exceptions on weekends, but, throughout the week, she doesn't watch tv throughout the day. I've learned it can never be whipped out during therapy sessions because she will turn into a zombie baby who refuses to participate. Honestly, though, I don't know how I would have done any of it without Brobee, Toodee, Foofa, Muno, and Plex. You are my rocks. I'm looking at you too, DJ Lance Rock. You six are an essential part of Elliot's team.

I recommend to any parent in a similar boat that you put aside you parental ideals and think of how you might be able to make required therapy a more enjoyable part of your child's life. Also, buy and iPhone. Best damn invention ever.

This is Elliot. She is awesome. Also, she drools.

Practice Run

I have talked about starting a blog, mostly with Rob, mostly during "Teen Mom 2." Well, it's Tuesday night and MTV is on. So, here goes.

I'll start this with one thought. Living in Los Angeles, I see homeless people almost everyday. They are everywhere. Grocery stores, tourist traps, the alley behind my condo. Ever since Elliot was born, I can't help but look at them and think, "Straight legs don't guarantee you anything in life." Then, I don't give them any money.