PDD — 5 Minutes for Special Needs

PDD



                               

Hi there! Remember me?

(don’t answer that…I’m beginning to feel a foreigner in my own land!)

 

So, here’s the current score. School District: 5, Jack: 3.

It’s looking rough out there.

His IEP was completed a few weeks ago. Because he turned 6, he has to be “transitioned” from the developmental delay label to something else. So you know what that means?

Testing.

Lots, and Lots, And LOTS of testing.

We’ve had 3 speech tests, an intelligence test, and today we’re going to the psychologist to have another battery of tests. Add to it physical and occupational therapy evaluations, and you have…

One. Crazy. Momma. (toting around a very unhappy, grumpy, and completely over it boy-child).

 

How’s your life going? I promise…once these few weeks end, I’m going to be back with a force. I have lots to share and tell (I’m learning so many things!), but no time to sit and write.

(this is being written while the sun is just breaking the horizon)

 



                               

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Hospital Homebound

School.

It’s happening around here. Some of the counties near where we live have already returned to recess, brown bag lunch, and smiling teachers. We…start Monday.

Well, my daughter starts Monday. My friend’s children start Monday.

Jack. Not so much.

See, we qualified for Hospital Homebound (HH). Basically, this is a school within a school. It has its own principal, teachers, guidance counselors, etc. Three times a week a teacher comes to my house and hangs out with Jack. Speech therapy and Physical therapy will visit him at home as well. However, it’s under the confines of the MotherSchool, which is the elementary that we are zoned for.

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Always Sad to Say Goodbye

The child reminded me of a poignant moment from her babyhood the other day. She was maybe three years old at the time, and still very much a baby with her speech  and social delays. I was with her at our church for some reason – going to a meeting or something and she was holding her favorite little super ball. It was clear rubber and had a bright pink sphere with a happy face on it. It was one of her favorite toys to carry around. It took me a few seconds too long to open the door and she got frustrated and threw her ball.

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The Bubble Bursts…

Sometimes, I lose my words.

Like someone popped my beautiful bubble that I worked so hard to get right.

Or I feel like the sky is closing in on me.

Actually, I feel like I’m the kid with the black cloud that only rains on me.

(Pity party, table for 1?)

So many times, on this journey, I have these huge highs….that are followed by the lowest lows. I fight hard, I play hard, I love hard…and then I get kicked in the teeth.

 

YAY: the insurance approved the wheelchair!

BOO: they’re not sure when we can actually have it (4-12 weeks is the estimate).

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I’m back…

Sorry I disappeared for a couple of posts there. We were traveling on the days that I was supposed to post, and although I had great intentions of writing something ahead of time…well, you understand.

We took care of my mother-in-law for a couple of weeks. It was easier in some ways, and harder in others. I see her declining ever so slightly. The good news is she is too confused to fight with us as much as she used to. The bad news is, she is very confused. First she was visiting at our house and she kept thinking that her things were missing because her brain was spending some portion of time telling her she was at her house.

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Labels

 

 

Jack met with the developmental psychologist on Tuesday for a few hours. We have been noticing some hard-core aggression along with some other really disturbing “new habits” that have come up in the past few months (for example, he’s taken to not sleeping again, and he’s picked all the nails off his fingers and toes). It was time.

She is amazing.

The office is amazing.

They have an education advocate who comes in to introduce herself and she calls you to make sure you’re getting everything you should from the county (school wise). I nearly wept with joy.

After two hours of pouring our hearts out and her seeing Jack at his absolute worst, I felt like we were actually in the right place, with the right provider for Jack.

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Interdependence

Nope. Not a typo. I know it is the Fourth of July. Happy Independence Day, everyone, and special thanks to our troops and veterans!

Grandma (my dear Mother-In-Law) is coming to visit us today, which means we’ll soon be having fireworks of our own. Everyone aged four to eighty-four in our house will be claiming “independence.”

I can do it myself! I don’t need your help! I’m in charge!

fireworks over a bright cityscape

fireworks by bayasaa via flickr

I think I’m starting to see that this isn’t really true for any of us, however. Even the most strong-willed and able-bodied among us need a little help now and then.

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Be Prepared….

Living in Florida, I know a bit about natural disasters. Like when, in 2005, 3 hurricanes hit us in 6 weeks. I got a new roof twice.

Back then, I only had the Girl Child, who was 5. She was self-sufficient, opinionated, and stubborn–but she knew when Momma said, “Get in the bathroom and cover up with a mattress, ” I meant business!

Fast forward to now. Jack is part of us. He requires extra preparation and forethought.

Did you know…that there are a TON of states that could, at any time, be hit by a hurricane? Did you know that September is the month when hurricanes most likely occur?

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Fixing the Unfixable

Apparently I have given the child the impression that this is what I am capable of. It was quite false of me to give her the impression that I can fix everything, and I am paying for it big time.

After lots and lots of temper-driven exchanges (and we both have hot tempers…sigh.) I stepped back and recognized the trend. Something will happen that I can’t fix:

  • She can’t go to the birthday party because she was sick the day before.
  • Her siblings are invited to something and she is not.
  • Plans are unexpectedly changed in a way that I have no control over.
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It’s the Little Things

My girls are suddenly into having pretty fingernails. They want me to use nail polish and make their fingers “fancy.” The four year old is particularly hooked on anything fancy and, in spite of her tomboy spirit the eight year old wants anything her sister gets – especially Mom’s undivided attention as I apply the polish.

Now when was the last time I took the time to make myself fancy? Let’s see…

  • I haven’t had a haircut in over a year.
  • Showers are still a rare and special treat.
  • Last time I had a real pedicure was almost two years ago.
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