For the first time in a long time, blogging just hasn't been on my mind. I've let two newsletters slip right by; I never even thought about Jack's. I'm skipping over the Mommy guilt and just trying to get back on the horse.
I want to talk about my Jack. I took this picture right before I had to wake him up to go pick Nate up from school:
Sweet enough for you?
Jack is my heart, my sweet boy. I could watch him toddle around all day. His squeals of laughter and his hugs make my days worthwhile.
So it was especially hard to hear, at his 15 month check-up, that he really should be talking by now. When his total lack of speech was combined with my answering "I'm not sure" to a lot of questions about his verbal comprehension, he was officially tagged "mildly developmentally delayed."
It was a bad week. It sucked the joy out of me, watching his happy face, seeing his quick grins, wondering about the future and about his life.
As the week went on, though, I was able to decide that he was, in fact, doing a lot of the things the pediatrician had quizzed me on. He's imitating: yesterday he put my phone up to his ear, and when I showed him how to stir a spoon in a bowl he tried to mimic it right away. He's following instructions (sometimes): He puts things in the trash when I ask him to and pantomime doing it, he gives things to Daddy when instructed, he looks around for Pink Doll when I ask him where she is.
Plus he's cute.
So what we're left with now: he doesn't often wave, and he definitely doesn't have any words. I'm going to go ahead and do the developmental assessment at Children's Hospital (anticipated appointment is sometime in May - he'll probably be writing novels by then). I'm going to work some with him at home, reading books and talking even more.
Part of the reason I wasn't really able to answer the pediatrician's questions was that Jack is such a happy, easy kid that I don't have to do too much "parenting" with him. While Nate's at school he putters around upstairs with me, dismantling the house while I pay bills and make phone calls. When Nate's home he's content to run around with him and dismantle the living room. He's all grins and cuddles all day. At a birthday party this morning the Dad decided to stop calling him "Baby Jack" and start calling him "Happy Jack." He charms everyone he comes across, grinning at them and ducking his head into my chest.
He's just the light of my life, and if I could give up a kidney to make sure he's going to end up being okay I'd do it in a second. If you have any extra thoughts, or kidneys, to send our way I'll receive them gratefully.