Tag Archives: crawling

Which is the bigger scam? Appraisals or the TSA?

The last couple weeks have been rather exhausting in good ways and bad ways. Good = trip to Boston. Bad = corrupt housing market.

Might I start by saying I hate property appraisers? I think I said that in my last post. It is still true. Despite the fact the houses by the same builder with the same floor plan have recently sold around the $200k within walking distance, our appraisal at $185,000, $20k below the agreed upon sale price will stand. We were already taking a hit from what was paid. And despite our complete makeover of the lawn from dirt to gorgeous grass, the addition of granite in the bathrooms, a thorough de-brassing of fixtures, a new water heater and a new roof, it’s still worth $25k less than it was appraised for in 2007. So dear, dear appraisers, yes, we all know you were oh so shady in your role (I say role, as banks and irresponsible buyers should not go blameless) in helping destroy our economy, and I’m so glad that you can continue to screw up people’s lives by swinging to other end of the spectrum and undervaluing everyone’s properties, as you once over valued them to line your pockets. I despise you and your industry. You have undervalued our house and taken money from us that should be going towards my child’s needs. I wish upon you a lousy life.

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Yes, we are going ahead with the move. It will hurt in the short term, but is best for the long-term. We had to heap much fertilizer on our money tree in the backyard to make it possible. Closing is in two weeks.

In brighter news, Connor is crawling like a fiend. He’s truly my child as he keeps making a move for the kitchen island wine rack and tries to steal one of my bottles. I couldn’t be prouder. He also knows that I have toys to sell stashed in the laundry room, and despite the nine kajillion toys strewn about the house, he wants  the ones in the laundry room. Emma has nearly lost her tail twice in his deadly jaws. I’m desperately trying to make him understand that bathrooms are grody mcnasty and that he should not follow us in there.

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We went to Boston last week for his third visit as part of the TSC study. He also had his annual MRI at Boston Children’s. Everything went smoothly, and I can see why Michael Jackson was hooked on propofol after an extensive period of time trying to wake Connor — not in a scary way, he just really wanted to keep sleeping. It’s waaaaaay better than my melatonin. We haven’t gotten the results yet. Hoping for no growth, of course.

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Connor’s veins continue to be elusive, proving that it isn’t just Atlanta that can’t get a vein in this kid. He always leaves looking like a retired pin cushion.

We’ve pretty much walked all over Boston at this point, so we just revisited some favorite areas.

We watched Harvard's sailing practice on the Charles River.
We watched Harvard’s sailing practice on the Charles River.

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We played with ducks in the Gardens.
We played with ducks in the Gardens.
We visited the only Curious George Store in the world at Harvard Square.
We visited the only Curious George Store in the world at Harvard Square.
Connor demonstrated that high chairs work best when you sit backward.
Connor demonstrated that high chairs work best when you sit backward.
He stole my bed.
He stole my bed.
Plane watching at Boston Logan.
Plane watching at Boston Logan.

I love going to Boston. I actually think I could live there in spite of the cold. The only negative aspect of the trip was the idiotic TSA. I’ve actually been feeling more kindly toward this waste-of-taxpayer-money organization as having a kid has miraculously made flying easier in a way. We get to skip the security line in Atlanta, they do a quick, problem-free scan of his milk, food and meds as they are oversized liquids and we get to board first. I even get to bypass the full body scanner and walk through problem free. But this time, coming home, my sixth flight with Connor, suddenly things change. They pull his diaper bag as usual due to the liquids, but this time, because of them, she tells me one of his parents must submit to a full-body pat down, as well as have their personal bag searched. Chris is already on the bench putting his shoes on, so in complete surprise, I begrudgingly volunteer to do so. Two questions: 1. What the hell does having oversized baby liquids have to do with arbitrarily patting me down and searching my purse? 2. What is the point of letting the parents choose? If we are indeed carrying a bomb, obviously the one who isn’t wired up is going to volunteer. She informs me that if I get all his stuff in 4 oz containers, I can avoid this. Hey pharmacist, I’m gonna need all Connor’s meds in a series of 4 oz bottles, please, and make it snappy! I inform her that I have flown with him six times and this is a first. No response. So apparently bottles of Enfagrow in your bag = right of government agency to stick their hands up your crotch. And they wonder why we don’t thank them for their service to this country. That and the fact that they’ve never stopped an attempted terrorist attack. That’s the job of the other passengers on the plane.

Anyway, our plan to try name brand seizure meds in hopes of better control did not work. We are now weaning off Trileptal and moving on to Onfi. His seizures have been increasing, and though they are short and he recovers quickly, he drops suddenly. He’s face planted on the floor three times now. We have to stop these before he walks. Please let Onfi be the one.

 

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Tanglewood Farms…and serious matters, too.

Does anyone know how long the ear-shattering shrieking phase lasts? Asking for a friend.

Connor is continuing to do well. Since mastering sitting at the beginning of January he has increased his range of reach around him, and pulls himself back to sitting from positions from which he would have toppled right over not so long ago. His flexibility is frankly disturbing. But when one wants toes, one will have them.

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If assisted into a crawling position he can maintain it and lift an arm to reach for a toy. He can also hold himself in a standing position. The key is to now help him achieve these positions independently. Oh, and move while in them. My lower back longs for the day.

The good news is that we still haven’t seen any eye-rolling seizures since February 10. The bad news is that I suspect he may be having occasional absence seizures upon waking. I’ve counted maybe 6 or 7 instances in which shortly after waking up, he purses his lips tightly and stares off to the side. They aren’t very long–maybe 20 seconds or so. They don’t seem to have any lingering effect on him, but it’s still frustrating. We get these little windows of no seizures, and then something changes. We see the neurologist again on the 24th so we’ll discuss it then. Of course, this is much better than what was going on before.

As I mentioned, his current mode of communication is high-pitched shrieking. It’s kind of funny until he keeps it up for half an hour. Or we’re in a restaurant. He’s otherwise so well behaved in public, but his love of his own voice shattered some mimosa glasses at brunch the other day. Hear it for yourself. But don’t click that at work. People will think you are seriously weird. And then watch this just because it’s funny to see how much he loves seeing himself.

I’m having trouble gathering my sarcastic thoughts since I’ve been watching CNN coverage of the bombing at the Boston Marathon all day, so here are some happy pictures of our trip to Tanglewood Farms, an awesome petting zoo of miniature animals in Canton, Georgia.

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The only downfall of the weekend was that Connor exhibited some signs of allergies. After we had been at the farm for a bit, he began to rub his face into us again, and his eyes seemed itchy. This also happened the day before at a friends birthday party. Pollen? Like Daddy? Orrrr….

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was it the pony at the party? Pollen or farm animals? Pollen counts were at record highs (or so I’m told. Pollen only affects me as far as irritating me by getting all over my car and porch rocking chairs). Time will tell…