Pee-Pee Pants and Preparation

Still pregnant. Just in case anyone was wondering.

Also? No signs of impending labor.

You do know that whole "due date" thing is just a suggestion, right?

Intellectually, I am aware of that fact as well, but there's just something about that day going by that does something to a gal. Add in the possibility of still having as many as twelve more days to go and...

Personally, it has made me certifiably loony. Either I'm laughing or crying. Eating or sleeping. One extreme or another. Moderation has gone out the window.

Yesterday, I spent quality time with my OnDemand. Never before had I shown interest in Celebrity Apprentice, but yesterday? I needed to watch the season. And then get unreasonably upset that I couldn't fast forward because I would fall asleep, the show would end, and then I'd wake up and have to start from the beginning. Again. And again. Talk about first world problems.

[I did actually learn something though. Clay Aiken's charity sounds amazing and him visiting the kids made me all teary.]

Today, I decided to make myself at least somewhat useful. I got up and showered and dressed. Before noon!

Wait. Just to clarify, I do wake up in the mornings. I am responsible for picking out Playette's clothes, doing her hair, and taking her to school. After that, I usually have good intentions, but many a day I end up back in the bed with the curtains drawn.

Because I'm that awesome. #notproud

Oh, and get this:

We rearranged our bedroom many weeks ago in order to get ready for the newbie. I gave up my nightstand and replaced it with a bassinet.

I have now turned the bassinet into a nightstand.

Turns out it's quite the convenient spot for the remote control and there's this little ribbon slot on the side that allows me to not have to reach to the floor, huffing and puffing, for my cell phone charger. It slides right in! Huzzah! And it's also a great place for my water bottle. Who knew?!

I promise that I'll adjust appropriately when the time comes.

Whenever that may be.

Gah.

So. Wondering how Playette is taking all of this?

I think she thinks that I'm the biggest liar ever. She's been waiting on this baby for a very. long. time. I am starting to think that she's going to be scarred for life when he does come because Dez is just supposed to live in my big belly FOREVER. Or so it seems.

We've been struggling with a lot of clinginess and attention-seeking behavior lately. And then there's the whole accident thing.

This week, there were three days in a row where Playette came home in her spare clothes. I just kept washing them and sending them back the next day. It made it easier for me to assess whether something had happened or not because my brain was having a hard time recognizing right away whether that was what she had worn that morning or not.

Enter the pee-pee pants.

They are teal and velour. They just barely still fit. They are obvious.

And I've seen them way too much this week.

We went from no worries in the land of toileting to my heart dropping every afternoon.

We've had conversations. Grown-up conversations about how amazing our bodies are that they tell us when to eat, drink, and...POTTY! Remember that part? Yeah. Stop waiting until the last possible second, kid. Or, maybe tell a teacher you have to go before you start? Because "I'm wet," is an awesome sentence and all, but it's not the most desirable use of your vocabulary at this particular time.

So now you see why I've been taking to my bed.

It's just stressful.

And, again, intellectually I know that other kids in her class may wear pee-pee pants, too, occasionally. I just don't want anyone to look at my kid (any more) differently. I want so badly for her to just blend.

*sigh*

In the effort to help her adjust better to the actual bringing home of baby, we went out today and got a few things. Since regression due to change related to a new sibling is totally normal, it was suggested by her teacher that we try to put her in a mommy-type role instead of allowing her the option of reverting back to that of baby when Dez arrives.

That meant going to the toy store today. (Good thing I got dressed!)

She got this:


And this:

And then we stopped at the library to check out this:


This was all pretty impromptu and we're not really the toy-buying types (Playette is just so content with what she has), so I hope it goes over well. The doll and gear will remain in the trunk of the car until needed and she's already "reading" the book. It seems perfect for her and this situation. BD really impressed me by finding the book in under three minutes, quite randomly, since we got to the library right before closing time.

I wish I could say that we put more thought into this whole thing, but we went from having sooo much time to having none, so, again with the winging it.

There's a full moon tonight, y'all. Think labor-inducing thoughts, 'k?

35

Every time I think to come here and write, I decide to do something else instead.

Like sleep. Or eat. Or rant about my situation at work.

Fun at parties, that's me!

You know, I tried to quit my job a few weeks ago, but the circumstances made me so angry that I chose fight over flight. It's not the best timing for sure, but I feel like it's important for me to take a stand against the bad behavior. We'll see what happens. At the very least, I am now down to part time. Five hours a day, four days a week. Yesterday ended the first week with that schedule and so far, so good.

I've been thinking on and off about Kindergarten for the (not-for-long) Littlest. For a while, I debated taking the extra year for her since her summer birthday forced me into thinking I had a choice in the matter, but then one day I woke up and it felt like the decision was made.

You ever had that happen? Obsess x 1000000 and then *poof* it's over?

Yeah. It doesn't happen often for me, but I was grateful in this case. It was just like a peace that washed over me and then I heard "Why wait?"

I couldn't come up with a response to the voice in my head (which, yay?).

Like, really. What would be the benefit for my child to spend another year in Pre-K? So at least that part's done. And then, on top of that, we should be moving again before the new school year, so no point in me battling with the people here about placement (though, of course, we'll update the IEP appropriately). That just gave me years back on my life. No unreturned phone calls, no explaining why I think she should be here and not there, no begging either for or against the home school.

Buying myself some time is nice.

Because one thing I can't keep from happening is this new babe.

He's coming.

Soon.

Earlier in the week, I realized that I was 35 weeks pregnant and that meant that I had 35 days to go until my estimated due date. Days.

I'm a 35 year-old woman 35 weeks into my pregnancy with about 35 days to go.

Pardon me while I go freak my freak.

People ask me if we're ready.

What's "ready"?

Like, do we have stuff? Yeah...some. I didn't throw anything away after Playette so the pack-and-play, swing, bouncy seat...all those biggies are cleaned up and in good working order. Some great friends have donated boy-type hand-me-down clothes and other items, which is awesome.

But are we ready-ready?

Um. Well. Er.

It's just...different. We're not as anxious about things as we were when Playette was born. I think we realize that whatever we don't have and end up needing, we'll get. Or maybe we don't really need at all.

Also, and more importantly, we aren't naive. No matter how much we want to be blissfully unaware, we know that things can happen. There are no guarantees. And with that in mind, our primary focus is on the health and well-being of this little boy.

No surprises would be a bonus.

Everything else is gravy.



And now I want gravy. Dammit.

Influenced

Playette has been in a typical daycare or preschool environment for nearly four years now.

Our purpose in going that route was to expose her to other children, since she had no siblings at home, and get some positive influences from her typically developing peers.

For the most part, we've been pleased. She's great at playing and learning amongst other children and has plenty of friends that she asks for by name. She also has friends with varying unique needs. We're all about equal opportunity over here. One of her buddies in her class last year in CA uses a wheelchair and I loved that, to Playette, she was just one of the gang. Which is as it should be.

Many adults could stand to learn a lot from these kiddos.

Along with the great stuff, we get some gems that we know can only have come from being in school.

The latest is the evolution from "uh-oh" to "OOOOOHHHHHHH!"

It cracks me up. Let's say you drop something. She is quick to point and yell, "OOOOOHHHHHHH!"

Like she caught you do something wrong and she's about to tell or as a warning that you're about to get in big trouble.

It's funny because, really...how much trouble am I apt to be in for dropping my keys? And who is going to punish me for that offense, exactly?

I love that little nut.

=====

We just got in from vacation last night, so we're buried in washing tons of warm-weather gear while also trying to put together something that resembles Christmas morning for the kidlet.

Sure it's two days later and after 6pm.

How much you wanna bet she won't care?

More later...

S'up, Y'all?

I honestly didn’t mean to just straight disappear for the most part after the end of October, but the last couple of weeks have been some doozies in our household. There’s just a lot going on and I’ve barely had the thought to blog, let alone carved out the time to actually do so.

Work is very busy. Well, sort of. I mean, there’s lots to do and way more confusion than I would like, but…eh, it’s complicated. I’ve had to take off a couple of sick days lately. One day last week for me, one this week for Playette, and then another will be next week for Playette in the morning (She’s slated to see some fancy feeding/swallowing doctor – not a therapist. Don’t worry, I’m confused, too.) and I have an appointment of my own in the afternoon. Best bet was to take the whole day even though I know that will be one hectic day between going to the city, back home to drop her off, and back into the city again. Yeesh!

Tomorrow is a holiday for us, so yay for a day off of work, but since Playette also doesn’t have school, we’re going to try to make the most of it by squeezing in a much-needed dentist appointment (pray for me) and then, in the afternoon, I get to take her to her new SLP. She’s had two appointments so far, but since they’re at 3pm, the sitter has been taking her. I’m glad to have the opportunity to finally meet this woman who is, to me, the representation of all of my dreams of the past year finally coming true.

See, we had out eval with Sara Rosenfeld-Johnson last November, I believe, and during that process, we got connected with a Talk Tools certified SLP that we were able to see twice before we moved. Even then, we had to drive over an hour to get to her because there was just NO ONE closer and I believed with my whole heart that Talk Tools was the way to go for Playette. I liked the SLP a lot and we tried to make an adventure out of it so that the early morning drives didn’t feel so daunting. As you all may recall, we then had the audacity to MOVE at the end of December once BD returned from his deployment, so that marked the end of Speech Therapy for a very, very long while.

Which sucks.

Because what is my daughter’s greatest challenge (well, besides using scissors which is the current bane of my flipping existence)? SPEECH.

When she started school in January, she did get some time with the ST there. But then, y’know, we took her out of that awful place in April after the teacher used the R word in the IEP meeting AND the bus drivers played that precious April Fools practical joke. Such a shame to leave such sweet folks, but I digress.

So, the little bit of ST she was getting disappeared. I was so torn up at the time about what was going on between us and the school district that I didn’t pursue their services at her private preschool. Plus, I just KNEW that we’d be coming up on one of the many, many waiting lists we were on for ST…any. day. now.

Ha! So much for that. If you are the parent of a child with special needs, you have probably noticed that there are a lot of children out in the world with “speech delays.” It’s a pretty common diagnosis. So, getting in to see an SLP, especially one with experience dealing with oral motor issues, not to mention the added bonus of being familiar with or certified to utilize Talk Tools? In a very congested area? Yeah…waiting lists. Long, long, long waiting lists. I made more phone calls than I can even recall, trying to track down someone, anyone, that could work with my girl.

Thankfully, we were so grateful to have Beth come by this past summer (housecall, woot!) to help me learn how not to be so overwhelmed by the whole oral motor process. She is a wealth of information and I am inspired so much by how well her daughter, Hannah, is doing, along with her other children. I hope I can be half the mama she is one day.

To bring you up to speed on this new SLP we have, about a month ago, she called me out of the blue and said that Playette had come up on her waiting list. I was shocked. She went on to tell me that she’s Talk Tools certified. I was stunned. The issues then became dealing with insurance (gag) and the logistics - her only openings were on days/times we were otherwise obligated, plus her office was REALLY far away.

Over the course of a couple of weeks, we got it all worked out. The insurance thing made me want to stab my eyes with a spork, but eventually that was rectified. And then, this woman offered to do some shuffling and got us in not only at a time where we could make it, but also at a closer office! Where has she been all my life?! Or at least for the past 10 months?! So, once I coordinated with the sitter, we were set. Yeehaw. Get along, little doggie. Forward momentum. All that good stuff.

So far, Playette has been twice and things are going well. I’m actually excited to meet this life-saver of mine tomorrow and see what she has to say about possible next steps. As it stands, I still have a massive drooler on my hands (and, yikes, winter is approaching and wet + cold = ugh), and you know that noise I mentioned that started last year? It STILL has not made a graceful exit yet.

And if you think that over time that it would just blend into the background? You, dear reader, would be incorrect. It’s just as grating as it was the first day she started. More so, in fact. More. So.

I felt like I wanted to write more than just about this topic, but my brain is all loopy at the moment. When it comes to me, I’ll be back. Promise.

When More is More

Today, the Littlest decided that she'd spice it up a bit.

Maybe she's trying to remind me of what things will be like for me when I go back to working full-time outside of the home next week.

I pulled a new dress out of her closet this morning for her to wear. It was one of those moments where you have to weigh out the pros and cons...

Yes, if she wears this, it may get messed up during the school day.

But, if she doesn't, it may end up being one. more. thing that gets outgrown with the tags still on it.

I threw caution to the wind. We'll see how that turns out.

But here's the thing, much like the participants in any number of makeover shows, once she had that new dress on, her whole demeanor changed.

She went into her closet and grabbed her laptop.

Then she went into my closet and snagged a purse.

Partner those with her (old) glasses and she was ready to go.




I hope that I'm half as put-together on Monday.

=====

I cried at drop-off today. I couldn't help it. It was just a few tears, but I couldn't hold them in.

The teacher, who I appreciate very much, was telling me about some of the behaviors that Playette has been exhibiting lately.

Now, I had heard the other teacher mention some things yesterday during pick-up, but I think she was trying to spare my feelings a little too much and kind of acted like things weren't as bad as they are.

The morning lady (they work together in the room for most of the day) was a little more blunt. Which was fine. It's just that I guess that I've been living in a bit of a fantasy lately. I mean, I have this kid who has been just...nice...for so long and hearing that she's pushing and hitting other children? Ugh.

I understand that her chronological age does not match her developmental stage, but still. I thought we got the "terrible twos" thing last year. Apparently not. That was just a preview. She's exhibiting that sort of behavior now in the classroom and I realize that I'm not taking it well because I really, really want her to just be.

Do you know what I mean?

I don't want her to stick out (more).

I don't want her to become a problem.

I want everyone to wish that they had her in their classrooms.

It's that thing about being different already and not really wanting to give her the leeway to be the same as other children in that kind of way.

While it's fine for any other child to have behavioral issues attributed to the stage they're in, for a kid that's already set apart, it's just another strike in my mind.

It's kinda like me not being able to be relaxed in college about breaking a rule....there was no one that anyone could confuse me with as I was virtually the only Black female for most of the time I was there.

So, yeah, it's deeper than "we don't hit" for me.

It's more like, "Please, baby, be nice to your friends today, ok? Be on your very best behavior, alright? Look at me. Can you do that for mama? Please? No, really, I'm serious. Look at me. Do you understand? We're nice to our friends. Hands are not for hitting. Let's use our words today. Look at me. Tell me you understand. Ok? Can you promise me that you'll be the best girl today?"

Ugh.

That is so unfair. I know that.

But that's real life.

Updates & Stuff

I finished Insanity on Tuesday. I wanted to make a really big deal about it and shout it from the rooftops, but since I'm not sharing pics, I figured I'd hold back some.

I don't know if I didn't think I'd make it through to the end or what, but for some reason I never took before pictures so that I could make a comparison. With my body, I think comparisons would be necessary since the changes are pretty subtle.

So, yeah, no flashing of the belly on the interweb for me.

BUT! It went well, overall. The plan is 63 days and I was pretty diligent. I followed the calendar as closely as possible, taking one week off for an unrelated back injury and another couple of days for a sinus infection. I started on May 16th and finished on July 26th.

I got my butt kicked, in case you were wondering. I feel stronger though and I'm a lot more confident in my bathing suit. I consider that a mission accomplished!

Oh, and at one point, I had lost like 7 lbs, but our whole Season of Celebration in June/July took care of that. I pretty much broke even in the weight department.

Now, I'm trying to decide what's next. I haven't done anything but eat Chik-fil-A and Blizzards since Tuesday and I'm starting to feel antsy. I signed up for two races this week, one in October and the other in December, so I know that running needs to come back into the picture very, very soon.

=====

I went to look at a private school for Playette yesterday. The wind was kinda taken out of my sails. After the one-hour tour, I informed the lady that the kidlet has 47 chromos and I saw her face change. The smile remained, but if you've been in that situation, you know what I mean. In her eyes, this was not awesome news. She proceeded to ask me questions about the closeness of Playette's development to her typical peers. She told me that they don't have the staff to support her if she requires one-on-one instruction.

What is up with this whole "one-on-one" thing?! That's the same thing her jackhole teacher said in out last "meeting." I'm starting to second-guess myself. Does my child need a shadow 100% of the time? Am I being unrealistic?

The lady did say that they'd "be willing to try anything." Which, yay? I mean, my kid is a kid, not a monster. "Anything" kinda alludes to her being the worst of the worst and they're doing us some sort of favor.

Grr.

Maybe I'm just being way sensitive. I also recognize that I went in with really high expectations after another parent told me that her kids (one with Ds) have gone there for years and they were excited for the opportunity to work with Playette.

Maybe something changed?

So, yeah, since I haven't heard anything back from the school district, I'm making moves to set something private up. I mean, what else can you do? What they're offering just isn't good enough and, as many people as I've spoken to, it just doesn't seem that the program I requested can ever be a reality. Deadlines have been missed. Which, don't get me wrong, IT PISSES ME OFF! They passive-aggressively allowed this to happen and that doesn't escape me.

But at the end of the day, I will not allow my child to suffer because of their ignorance.

Now I just need to find the right place to pay to teach our child.

And hopefully treat her humanely.

Because I Promised

Here goes nothing.

I can't watch these or else I know that they'd never get posted because I'd pick them apart forever and end up writing myself a script instead and then that would take too long so I'd end up forgetting altogether and...yeah.

BTW, I did these on my phone. You may need to tweak the volume some. I was working my sexy sleepy voice.

And We're Off!

I woke up, dragged myself out of bed, and went to get Playette so that we could start our respective days. This is how I found her:


And, in case you're wondering, that's not how we left her last night. She really does wear pajamas, not her bathing suit, to bed.

I guess it's safe to say that we'll be spending a lot more time at the beach and pool as she's developing a true affinity for the water.

And WOOT! on the self-help skills, huh?

Let's go, 4!

=====

When I dropped her off at school, I had a chat with the Director about the bag of Playette-gear that was sent home with BD when he picked her up on Friday. Was it presumptuous of me to think that their intent was for us to take said bag with her to a new room? Or was everyone just asked to take their cubby items home for the weekend because they had painters coming in?

It really could have been either one.

And it turns out that it was really both.

I didn't know how to take that at first.

You mean, you're moving my kid because she meets age requirement to advance? And that's it? I don't have to fight or cry or go through all the requisite emotions that typically come with such a transition?

That was weird.

They, uh, well, they treated her like all of the rest of the kids in her class.

Damn shame that this is the exception and not the norm.

It actually made me nervous! Like they were trying to get one over on me!

Director was all, "Let's try, if you're ok with it, Mom. Let's give her a chance and see how she does. I have no reason to think that she won't be just fine. She's been doing wonderfully so far."

Whoa.

Isn't this what I've been asking for?

Isn't this in line with my own personal philosophy when it comes to my kid?

And the very thing that the school district refuses to do?

I just didn't know how to receive it.

Story of my life.

Let's go, 4!

=====

I hurt my back again yesterday so I'm off to take some meds and rest. Sitting here really isn't the most ideal situation. Because it hurts.

But I'm glad that I held off on the Percoset for a bit because I did just get a call that I'm being considered for a job I applied for a while ago. They'll schedule the phone interview with me later this week now that they've established that I'm still interested.

Let's go, 34!

Blog Reader, Blog Reader, what do you see?

Totally coincidental, this whole apparent vision theme. This actually happened the other day and I didn't get the chance to post it.

So. Anyway. Here's your riddle:



Click to enlarge if you so desire.

Any idea what it is?


...

...

...

...

...


Give up?

Here was Playette's response, after seeing the step stool overturned. At first, I didn't know what she was referencing, but then it clicked.

It takes me a while to figure things out sometime.

Someone should really label me and put me in a corner. Right?! That's totally what I deserve!

*eyeroll*

Sorry. School stuff has me all stressed and cynical today. I'm sure to rant about that later.

Back to her response...

"Mmmmm! X! Uh-yew!"

Translation: "M! X! W!"

Do you see it?

She was sooo excited to see her letters.

This made me smile, y'all.

I couldn't be more proud of her.

It's not that she knows three letters. She knows them all and so much more. This is just another example of her critical thinking. She loves to learn.

And no one else, NO ONE, on her "IEP team" can know these things about my child. They can't possibly understand why I fight so hard to get her to be considered.

If they did, they'd stop bucking against me for the bare minimum.

It's not fair.

I know...

Life's not fair.

We're not looking for a hand out, just a hand up.

Or a step, if you will.


Whatever works.

Bullets

• I finally registered for the NDSC conference. Funny that I said "finally" when it's wayyyy before the deadline for when the price goes up. It's usually more my style to wait until then.


• I guess that's why we still don't have plane tickets. Procrastination FTW!


• Someone I was friends with a long time ago died in a way that makes me very sad to think about. A lot of fun memories have come back to my mind since finding out that his life was cut short. I remember that my mother really liked him and that makes me smile. I also remember how pissed my mother was when the group of us "borrowed" her car and drove to the place that I now live and stayed overnight. If my child is like me when she's 18, I totally deserve it.


• Laughing makes me feel better.


• I have way too many papers in my house. They are in piles. Everywhere. And include lots of unopened mail.


• I will be 35 in 45 days. That makes me think of a lot of things.


• Like, "What can I accomplish before then?"


• And Advanced Maternal Age. *gag*


• By the way, I started Insanity yesterday.


• The Fit Test made my calves ache.


• I'm scared to do today's workout.


• Playette started Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) Therapy last Thursday. Today is day 2. They're still in the "getting to know each other" phase. What I like so far: it's at our house. What I don't like so far: 3 hours a day, twice a week is a lot for this mama! If you have any experience with ABA, please feel free to share.


• Playette continued going to her new school, the less-shiny place that we have to pay for, while I was on reserve duty. They took pictures. They are hilarious. I can't bring myself to toss the proofs even though I have no intention of purchasing them. Ever. Never.


• She's still enrolled in public school. She will obviously not be receiving an award for Perfect Attendance since, well, she hasn't been there in a month and we're still plan-less for moving forward. PoTY!


• But if she does go back? She's allowed to be picked up in front of our house again. I wonder what my landlord said to the board, exactly, to get them to switch up.


• This neighborhood isn't all bad. They had Margarita Friday at the clubhouse last week and we got the opportunity to meet some nice neighbors. Apparently, we have more than our share of Navy SEALs in this little enclave. I think that's pretty cool.


• Job hunting isn't fun, but I continue to do it. Just like laundry.


• I have the most amazing video of my kid doing something but I can't post it because of pervs on the web. You'll just have to trust me on this one. Or come to San Antonio in August and ask me to show you on my phone.


• Are we really going to San Antonio in August?!


• I've been cooking a lot more. BD bought me a food processor and it's awesome and so much easier that actual cutting. Yay!


• Every time I add another bullet, I'm really just trying to avoid working out.


• Ok, fine...

Because We Like to Keep Things Interesting

I got a call this morning.

It was the head of Transportation for our school district.

He was letting me know that door-to-door bus service would resume.

This was not a surprise to me (other than the fact that he actually called), nor was it resolved without a lot of leg work on the parts of multiple people.

But the wrong was righted.

And it probably won't help our personal situation one bit.

But, you know, it's the principle.

So, hooray for victory and all that.


=====


I dropped Playette off at her new preschool today...

On that note, I will go bury my head in a bottle of wine the sand now.

We'll sort the rest of all of this out after Spring Break.

The Butterfly Effect

I just walked in the door from one of the biggest ClusterFs ever!

Ok, so if you've been keeping up with the story, you know that Playette now must be dropped off in the afternoon at the front of our neighborhood, on the closest city-maintained road.

I swear, in the last few days, I have learned more about what the colors of your street signs mean and renegade condo association law and public school transportation for children with special needs than I ever wanted to know.

Today? It was gorgeous out. Loved walking out there to get my girl. In fact, I told the driver that if every day were like this one (They are not. Tuesday, it was cold and rainy and I cursed all of the parties involved as I drove to that same main road.) that I might just enjoy this little change of plans we've had thrust upon us.

I still drive her to school on principle though. That whole "joke" thing? Screw them and their morning bus. I have since called the head of both Transportation and Special Ed Transportation (gag) and given them the business. I'm not finished either.

This whole bus thing won't last must longer anyway, but that's a whole 'nother story to be elaborated on at another time.

Anyway, so as the aide is getting Playette out of her 5-point seat straps and then chasing her down after she ran directly to the back of the bus, and I'm talking to the driver while we wait, I start to hear some commotion.

I'm going to try to keep this insanity brief, ok?

Let's see.

I just went to Paint and tried to make you all a diagram, but it sucked. You may need to break out your own napkin or something.

So there's this lady, A, and she's sitting behind a guy at the stop sign, B. Man C is stopped on the road, facing the bus.

A honked her horn. I would learn directly from her later that she had been waiting 3 whole minutes for Playette to be unloaded from the bus. She admitted to being very impatient since all that was going on was a little chat between the driver and I, or so she thought.

B started driving after the honk. He's maybe in his 70s? I only mention his age because it kinda matters in a bit.

C immediately darts to block B from proceeding past the bus.

And then this is where I start to notice something is up. Because I'm on the side of the bus closest to the curb, I couldn't see how the how thing started.

C begins to should at B. "YOU'RE BREAKING THE LAW!! THERE ARE KIDS ON THIS BUS!" amidst some colorful expletives.

Because, you know, the lights were flashing, the stop sign was extended. All that good school bus stuff.

But then...oh, lord...then C takes his left hand, balls it up, and punches B's windshield. It cracked.

B is very rattled and gets out of his van.

A starts yelling at C. C holds firm to his reason for coming at B the way he did.

B starts saying that he's going to get C's license plate number and have him arrested.

Not too difficult since C isn't going anywhere. He really believes he is in the right. C wants B arrested.

Whoa.

A then drives over to me, to get my name and phone number as a witness. It's at this point that she tells me exactly what happened and I jump at the opportunity to inform her that my daughter is riding an accessible bus and, well, sometimes that takes longer than 30 seconds to disembark.

A's face changed. She felt like an ass. Mission accomplished.

I then told her that up until a couple of days ago, my daughter was dropped off in front of our house. Not anymore though. So now everyone is just gonna have to wait it out whenever she's getting off the bus.

So there. Neener neener and nanny nanny boo boo.

Playette just keeps pointing at the bus. "Bus! Bus! Bus!"

They all. keep. yelling.

C does this whole Citizen's Detainment type thing and demands that the bus driver stay put. The aide gets off the bus and comes over to me. We are in awe of this whole situation. Traffic is backed up in both directions. I can hear people making up their own versions of the events already.

"B hit his head on the windshield! He's hurt!"

"C took B out of the car and beat him up!"

Messy, messy.

A neighbor comes up and asks me what happened. I tell her, adding in that this never would have happened a week ago. Because I'm that kind of an opportunist.

She asked me if the vans that carry people to the Senior Center would have to do so at the main road, too. Hm. Well, of course not! She seemed happy to know that. Toddlers, ok. Seniors, no.

Then C's wife drove up and started talking to me. I felt bad for her. She had nothing to do with this, but she was certainly going to have to deal with the consequences.

I felt bad for them all, really. Even A who admitted that she was the catalyst.

B made a mistake and now had a broken windshield.

C started out well, but his good intentions got buried in shards of glass. That was not his best decision.

What. A. Mess.

But, you know, my life doesn't stop because people are stupid. I needed to get home because I was expecting a social worker and a nurse to come evaluate my child and my life because we're cool like that.

So we walked home and left the circus behind.

I snapped this first though:


When those ladies arrived about 30 minutes later, they said that the police had arrived on the scene.

In the words of my neighbor, "This one will be in the newsletter."

I sure hope so.

I'll let you all know if I learn about any more details.

=====

I wrote this post yesterday, but I thought that the
7 Day Blitz for Kirill (though Monday, April 11th) should take precedence.

But Wait, There's More

First, let me thank you all for your comments and support. If anything can make a crappy situation a little better, it's knowing that you have an army of peeps behind you.

**insert sanity break to Google images of fighting marshmallow chicks here**

Ok, I'm back.

In all seriousness, I am very grateful. I know for a fact that BD and I were not the only ones mulling over Friday's situation ad nauseum this past weekend. So many people wish the best for us and our little girl and knowing that you're out there makes such a difference.

All that said, you'll dig this.

Playette usually gets picked up at about 10:45 am.

At 9:15 this morning, the phone rang.

It was her bus driver.

I think my eyes rolled out of my head.

She started out by telling me that they wouldn't be able to pick up Playette anymore.

Wow! She's calling to tell me that she got fired! Bless those other parents that complained, and rightly so. Here I am thinking-thinking and they took immediate action. Good on...

"Yeah, we're not allowed to drive the bus in your neighborhood."

...them.

Wait. What?

"Someone complained about the bus coming into your neighborhood, so now you need to bring her to the main road to get picked up."

They can't be serious.

Instead of just about anything else I could have said, I heard myself ask, "So, just when do you expect to pick her up, exactly? On that main road?"

The reason I asked is because, well, I kinda never know when they're going to show up. It could be 10:30, maybe 11:05. Good thing we can stay inside, out of the elements, while we wait.

Oh. Not anymore, huh?

So, the SUPER MEGA ironic thing that hit me is that they are now trying to make me work harder for piss-poor service.

Hm.

Interesting.

This set into motion a chain of events that basically told the school, the transportation department, and my neighborhood to go eff themselves. They won't have me or my kid to mess around with anymore.

But, while that feels right, it also leaves me feeling like it's not enough.

I want someone to suffer.

For their incompetence, for their ineptitude, for their ridiculous lack of overall professionalism and common decency, someone should be made to look like the asses they're all behaving like.

Taking our bat and ball and moving to another field seems somewhat wimpy.

But don't get me wrong, what works for us is what works for us right now. And I'll surely find a way to get up on my soapbox. Trust.

There's just something about picking your battles.

How much time and energy do you choose to invest in each situation?

It truly has to happen before you can know.

I do want to say this though...

Bless the afternoon driver who was all, "No one told me not to drive in here. I'm bringing this baby right to her door!"

and

Bless my landlord, the complete antithesis to our former wack-a-loon in CA, who called me tonight all riled up and ready to defend our rights to her homeowner's association. She could not (unnecessarily) apologize enough and plans to embarrass them at the next meeting. She made me smile.

As do all of you.

This story isn't over.

By a long shot.

I drove my daughter to school today.

My daughter that loves riding the bus so very, very much.

And I'll keep doing it, ensuring that she never has to be tainted by those people ever again.

I can't protect her from everyone, but, dammit, that won't keep me from trying.

Also

You know what makes me even sadder about this situation?

It's that we can fix it.

With money.

Money to pay for my daughter to go to a place that will not only respect her, but also us, as parents.

Everyone doesn't have that option.

And it's not right.

Or fair.

Or decent.

Go ahead and tell me I'm too sensitive.

That I need a thicker skin.

I dare you.

Hardy Har Har

So, I just put Playette on the bus to school.

The aide was all excited and said to me, "Yesterday, when we were on the bus, [Playette] told me, 'Good morning, Ms. Toni. How are you doing today?'"

My jaw dropped. Wow. That's FANTASTIC use of speech and something that I just haven't heard yet from my daughter.

I mean, she knows all of those things, but to string them together like that? Huge.

Just as I'm letting this all sink in and already trying to think of ways that we can get her to do this with people other than just Ms. Toni, the laughing started.

"APRIL FOOLS!"

"I've been getting all the parents with this today! HAHAHAHA!"

Yeah.

Funny.

Tell the parents of children with speech delays, and varying other disabilities, that their kids can speak...and well!

God, these people suck.

=====

I've still been struggling with the private preschool thing, which is why I haven't shared the verdict.

But, well, this definitely adds one to the "Pro" column.

Clutch the Pearls!

Something good just happened.

Something unexpected and so appreciated.

I called a preschool, a close one, like, right down the street from my house, and I had my defenses up, expecting to be expected to sell them on my kid (which I refuse to do) and fight the familiar fight and the lady was all, "Oh, so are her delays documented?"

Me: Very much so.

Her: Let me check in with my Regional Director and I'll call you right back. I think I have some ideas that could work.

(We had been discussing the whole toileting conundrum and how that seems to be forcing Playette with much younger children, if she's even allowed to register at all.)

A whopping two minutes later, she called back.

No, really. She called back.

Somehow I missed her call, so she left a message.

And she said something like, "We don't see any reason why she can't come here. Please call me. We can put her in with three-year-olds, no problem, and keep working with toileting. I just want to talk some more. There may be times that we need help with understanding some things [about Ds]."

That's it.

Normally, a pretty anticlimactic story, right?

But, unfortunately, not in my world.

This woman was kind, helpful, and articulate.

Amazing.

So now, backwards as it may be, we can finally go visit the school.

Because there was no way I was going to visit a place that would not even consider admitting my daughter.

This roundabout stuff is for the birds, but good things can and do happen sometimes and that's what I'm choosing to celebrate today.

Of course, in the back of my mind I keep hearing, "Now, watch it be a dump."

The Great Race to Nowhere

That's kinda how I'm thinking of potty training/toilet learning. Whatever it is you want to call it, the bottom line is all the same: The lack of need for expensive incontinence products.

Wait. Unfortunately, that's not it. That would be too easy. What I've learned is that not only do you get the pride/bragging rights that your kid can pee or poop in a pot, but a completely whole new world is opened to them.

Did you know that? I didn't.

I think it's crappy that my kid is not able to join a class at school or get involved in a rec center program or a myriad of other things because she happens to wear a pull-up or, on a great day, panties covered with a bulky plastic overlay.

See, my issue is that if she can count and knows her alphabet in two languages and gets along well with others, WHAT THE FLIPPING FLIP DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH WHETHER OR NOT SHE TELLS US SHE HAS TO GO?! WHY DOES SHE NEED TO BE IN A CLASS WITH TWO-YEAR-OLDS?!

Ahem.

Obviously, this is an hot button for me today.

And, trust me, I do get that staffing and money drive all of this. You need more people in a class that has children for whom toileting is an emerging skill. The ratio changes. Smaller ratios cost more money. Blah, blah, blah.

But it feels like another acceptable form of discrimination and lord knows we've got enough of those already. ("Will you accept my child with Down syndrome into your preschool program? No? Oh, alright then." - gag)

If my child is developmentally ready to learn age-appropriate things but she can't control her bladder, she doesn't move on. Basically. And I'm supposed to be ok with that.

This all ties into my last post where maybe it wasn't clear but...I am not fine with how that whole thing went down. But finding other placement for Playette? It's hard, yo. Because of all that stuff I just rambled about. No academics for girls that still tinkle in their dipes.

And that makes me think about this long, long road we've been on.

If you'll let him, BD will tell you all about how he was PT'd in the womb or something close to that. No, seriously, he was using the toilet really early.

So, when Playette was approaching two and he wanted to get her started, I was all, "Why not? We're supposed to treat her just as we would if she didn't have Ds, so if he's all motivated, let's go."

She was successful. And those days success looked like timely release. She knew that sitting on the potty meant it was time to go.

That was almost two years ago and we've gone through a lot of up and down since then. There were several occasions when I thought that she was going to be 100% PT'd any day now, and then I was happy with her being "schedule trained" and then there were others times (like when BD was deployed) when I thought that we were all the way back to square one.

We've tried having multiple Ikea potties stashed all over, a soft, cushy potty, inserts on regular-sized toilets, coloring books with stickers, and even an iPhone app that got her to go in a freaky Pavlovian kinda way.

In retrospect, we're just not as far along in the process as I had hoped we would be two years ago. I really, really wanted to believe back then that my kid was gonna be all Superstar Pee Pee Girl, but what I think I did instead was just stress myself the hell out for way too long about something that could have waited.

Every morning for the past few weeks, I've packed up a grocery bag full of pants, shirts, socks, underwear, and plastic covers. The school said that she was ready to take the next step and I was grateful for the assistance and support.

Every night, I did the laundry that came home. For a while, she was coming back to me in the same outfit she left in and I was getting notes that said things like, "She was dry all day!" That felt like good. Like progress. Like I could really start signing her up for classes at the rec and securing placement in an age-appropriate setting that had zero tolerance for teachers with no people skills.

And then, yesterday, on Friday, I got a letter.

"She is not physically ready," they said. "She is inconsistent in staying dry."

The school is giving up.

I know that I can't do the same. I don't know how to just stop when I know that she's trying, that she's proud of herself when she gets all the stars to align.

But I'd be lying if I said that didn't take the wind out of my sails.

Peeing in the toilet does not dictate how wonderful and capable my daughter is.
Peeing in the toilet does not dictate how wonderful and capable my daughter is.
Peeing in the toilet does not dictate how wonderful and capable my daughter is.
Peeing in the toilet does not dictate how wonderful and capable my daughter is.
Peeing in the toilet does not dictate how wonderful and capable my daughter is.

I'll let that marinate a bit.

Odds/Ends

I keep meaning to wrap up a few themes on here, but then something else happens that catches my attention (oohh, shiny!) and off I go on that tangent.

So, for those who were wondering:

Playette is adjusting well to her dad being back home. The strange throat thing she started doing after he left did not miraculously disappear at homecoming like I had hoped it would. Boo on that. At least now I have company in being driven crazy by it though.

She was absolutely thrilled to see BD again. I can tell that she's still adjusting. When he's gone to work, she'll ask if he's away on the boat. I tell her no and that he'll be home soon, but I don't think she believes me. It takes him walking in the door for it to be true.

She's quite clingy to both of us and loves holding one hand each while we walk. I'm sure there's a lot of security in that and I can't blame her one bit. She thrives when both of us are present. She's just...happier that way.

Now, when it comes to discipline, she definitely listens more to me than BD. In her world right now, he makes suggestions and I lay down the law. We're working on getting her to understand that both of the big ones run the show.

=====

The Mom's Night Out went well. I got there a little late, but still before dinner was ordered. There were five other mothers there and it was quite a nice mix of children's ages and diagnoses. Not all of the people that participate in the Ds support group have children with Ds and I think that's awesome. There are some uniquenesses about children that don't allow for large groups to support the families and I'm happy that they have a place with all of us. There can be many similarities when it comes to chromosomal abnormalities. At the end of the day, we're all in the same gang.

I'm looking forward to the next gathering. This group tends to do things together quite a bit a bit, whether it's with everyone, the moms, the dads, the kids of different ages...I think we've got a little something to do for a piece of every weekend in February. That's even cooler when you're new to an area and don't know many people.

I have met some great folks so far. One family has a little girl very close to Playette's age, another family is within walking distance of our house (!!), and yet another family has quite a few similarities to our own which has lead to any easy connection.

I also have a couple of college friends in the area and some people from our last duty station have moved here as well.

I don't want to wait too long to make myself at home here like I did before. We'll be gone again before you know it!

=====

School is going well. I'm going in in a couple of hours to observe the class in action and then we'll have a quick IEP meeting. Did I just write "quick IEP meeting"? Hm. I'm still not so sure those exist. But they tell me that this is just a transfer from one form to another, basically, and that we can meet again when everyone has gotten to know each other a little better. We shall see.

=====

We're all moved into our new home and, for the most part, there's a place for everything and everything is in its place.

Just don't open the closets.

Noted

While going through Playette's backpack this morning (yeah, I kinda mean to do this when she gets home. You know, in case there's something important that needs to be addressed, but, well...), I got a very interesting surprise.

Now, if you're the parent of a preschooler like I am, then getting things sent home in a ziploc bag isn't uncommon.

But what is uncommon is recognizing the item sent home as not one that belongs to the Littlest, but one that you didn't even know you were missing.



What the hizzy?

And then I saw the notes from her teacher.





How do you even respond to that?!

I scribbled something in response in the communication notebook and once I was finally done laughing, we had a mini photo shoot. Because once Playette saw the camera come out, she wanted to get in on the action. And who am I to deny her that pleasure?






Today was Mechanic Day. Denim and white tees were requested. As Playette would say, "Tooot!" (Cute!)

When I Grow Up

The theme of the week at Playette's school is to learn about different careers. You know, start exploring the whole "What do I want to be when I grow up?" thing.

I'm still trying to figure that out for myself, but ok.

Yesterday, before we realized this new theme, we found a band-aid on Playette's arm. I check the notebook. Hmm. No comment about her getting hurt.

Just when I was about to call the teacher and ask what happened, BD noted what they did that day. It was on the weekly calendar that I had missed. They were doctors and bandaged each other.

Subsequently, we found two more band-aids.

Today was hairdresser day. They asked for the kids to come with spikes or mohawks or pigtails and then they'd be sprayed with washable color at school.

Um. No.

Playette's aversion to getting her hair washed is unparalleled. We have tried everything we can think of. It is painful for all involved. She acts like she is getting tortured.

So, considering the fact that she just got her hair washed, we opted out of the spray color.

Also, I had just cornrowed the majority of her hair. I wasn't taking that out.

Instead, she dressed the part.

I don't want to give her a complex regarding wanting long, blond hair or anything, but...I couldn't resist.