Brushing

I wish I could go on a diatribe about hair brushing. However, the only hair that gets consistently brushed in this house is my own. I am at that wonderful post partem stage where all my hair is falling out, in rather large clumps at that. Since Nate was 4 months old when I got pregnant with Maddie, I never got to that point after his delivery, so now it seems I am losing twice the amount of hair I did with Jack. It's everywhere, and kind of freaking me out. You turn 30 and start losing hair, it has a psychological effect.

Yet, my title has nothing to do with hair brushing. With the guidance of a trusted Occupational Therapist that I work with, I have begun brushing Jack. This means I have a little plastic brush with relatively soft bristles that I rub up and down his arms, legs, and back a few times. Then I do joint compressions, and give him a heavy load of physical work to do, such as wheelbarrow walking around the house, or lifting my laundry baskets for me. The idea is to help regulate his sensory system and get his sleep regulated. I think in my former life, after I was a Chinese woman, reincarnated into a slave during the civil war, I was reincarnated into an OT because I LOVE all this sensory processing stuff. So far, brushing every 2 hours may be working for the little rat. He even took a nap today. We'll keep it up and see how it goes.

Still debating about going to a psychologist. What the hell are they going to tell me anyway?