Epistle: To D., on the Occasion of His Fifth Birthday

Dear D.,

You are five years old. FIVE. Holy crap.

There are so many things about you that fill me with wonder. You have very specific likes and dislikes, and you enjoy sharing them with us. Loudly.

You really enjoy watching videos of garbage trucks on YouTube. Unfortunately, you do not like long videos, and you do not know how to click the mouse to select the next video yourself. So, the family waits at your beck and call, to click the mouse approximately every 47 seconds. Good times.

You also really like Joe, from Blue's Clues. But not Steve. Never Steve. And Dora is cool, and sometimes Diego. You really like cars. And helicopters. Also eating is high on your list.

Low on your list is patience. For pretty much anything. Go figure.

You have specific preferences for the cup and plate you will use for meals. You dictate which clothes you will wear and which shoes shall grace your feet.

You use words to express many of these desires. Words. "I don't want to wear that shoes. I want to wear my new Crocs." "I want to go to the park." "I want to open another gift."

All these words, and yet somehow, singing the entire alphabet song still eludes us. I know that it's my issue, more than any of yours, that marks this as a setback, but I can't help it. This birthday is a very hard one for me. Sometime around school age, developmental delays become developmental disabilities. And that's such a scary thought, and I don't blame you if you hold that thought against me.

Because it shouldn't matter, and of course it doesn't matter, D., because I love you so much that it causes me physical pain, but that's exactly why it does matter. And I hate that it matters, but what can I do? I'm not as strong as your Aba. I'm greedy. I want you to be the kid who, when you stand up as valedictorian at Harvard, everyone points to and says, "Did you know that he was developmentally delayed and some idiot doctor thought he'd never amount to anything?" I want you to prove them all wrong.

I'm trying really hard, D., to remember that my definition of success is not the only definition of success. That success can look very different to different people. Bear with me, because you might have notices that you got stuck with a really stubborn mom who doesn't give up on her ideas easily. This is sometimes positive, but generally not.

You are amazing. And I love you. And you are amazing.

Happy Birthday, sweet boy.

Love,
Mommy

Stupid Universe

D's speech therapist just told me that her husband got a new job. In a new state. And she's leaving in two weeks.

What else ya got, universe? BRING IT ON.

In Which I Defend My Crappy Attitude

I spend a lot of time complaining. This is sometimes pointed out by a friend of mine who feels this blog is too negative. And then I read the blogs of people who could spend an enormous amount of time complaining, they've earned that right, but they don't. But over here, we are definitely mired in the negatives at times.

Part of it is that I often think that someone somewhere is just laughing at me, planting as many obstacles as possible in the path of D's success. Last year, in his mainstream classroom, he was stuck with a teacher who resented him, who by the end of the year was openly mean to him.

He wasn't accepted to the private school we applied to because he fell in between their levels. So, we made the best of it and found the PPCD program.

We met the teacher. We liked her philosophy. And then she left, just prior to the start of the school year and we got stuck with a temporary teacher. And then, we finally got the real teacher, and then--a hurricane.

A HURRICANE. I mean, really, are you freaking kidding me?

So then we missed two weeks of school and returned for ONE DAY before the season of HOLIDAY MADNESS descended upon us and we started the pattern of school, no school, no school, school, no school, and so on, for a month. So that now, the last week of October, is the first full week of school my son has attended SINCE THE SECOND WEEK OF SCHOOL.

Add to this the fact that the social therapy class I signed him up for meets on Tuesdays, so he missed THREE sessions for holidays. I swear, it's like God doesn't want me to catch a break.

Further proof: the day school three of my kids go to is running an after school program for kids with special needs, to give them a Jewish experience. And when I was told about it, I heard it was going to be for kids ages 4 through 19. And then yesterday, I got a form email rejection letter, explaining that it will be only for kids ages 9 through 15. I have three children who attend this day school. I really think SOMEONE could have called and given me a personal heads-up.

So, yes, I complain a lot. I do. But you have to admit that my kid seems to have caught a bum deal. And complaining here lets me maintain some illusion of normalcy in the rest of my life. Sometimes.

A Little Politics Never Killed Anyone

Well, that's really not true. But whatever.

While procrastinating today, I saw this gem. (Teej, forgive me. I know you are all about the Obama love.)

My favorite part:

[Obama] also proposed allowing people to withdraw up to $10,000 from their retirement accounts without any penalty for the remainder of the year and 2009.

Can I just tell you what a craptastic idea that is? Do I need to explain all the reasons that it's a terrible, horrible, no-good, VERY BAD idea? The vast majority of Americans have nowhere near what they need in their retirement accounts to begin with. So let's make it easier to withdraw that money? Also, yeah, let's LOCK IN OUR LOSSES what with the market tanking. Yay! And then, let's get a big tax bill on that money, putting us right back in the problem of needing more than we have. And then, when we want to retire in 20 or 30 years, and there's not enough money, well, let's just make that someone else's problem.

Dude, I sympathize with having no money. A lot. We are still shouldering more debt than I ever thought I would have in my life. It sucks. But we still sock money into the retirement account and DON'T TOUCH IT.

It's not that I'm all busy with doodling "WG HEARTS MCCAIN" or anything, but this is exactly the kind of thing someone with NO REAL EXPERIENCE suggests.

Return from the Dead

Check it out, Internet, WG lives!

So, the day after I wrote that last post, we headed to this camp for Shabbat. And late that afternoon, we got word that the power was back on at home. When it was still on after Shabbat, we figured it was safe to go home Sunday morning. So we did.

We had power, but no phone or Internet. Still, we were Darn Lucky, and I told myself that a lot.

I told myself that while I threw out what must have been $500 worth of meat, much of it in the form of prepared food my mother-in-law made and froze for Rosh HaShana.

I told myself that while I went to FOUR grocery stores and spent close to $500 and STILL didn't get everything I needed.

I told myself that every time I had to pro-rate an invoice for a client.

I told myself that every day when I checked to see if D's school was open and it wasn't.

I'm not sure that I ever really believed it. I am really kind of a whiner, turns out. I know, hard to believe.

But! But! Now we have phone and Internet AND electricity, AND so do all the people we care about and know personally, AND I had some clients that came through big time with extra work and generous checks, AND my sister sent us a $100 gift card for Safeway AND my parents sent us $500 just to help AND we really are lucky, even if I am spoiled.

Also, on the neurology front, I am no longer having symptoms, so I have stopped with the testing, and I am chalking it up to withdrawal from Lexapro. I am no longer having night sweats, so that was clearly a side effect of some drug or other. I am no longer on any meds, so I am sobbing A LOT and having Lady Problems like every other week or so. Good Times!

I can't figure out which drugs mean more to me, which ones I should go on first. It's a real problem.

Also, I frankly think that the whole hurricane right before Rosh HaShana and the whole Holiday Season was really poor planning on God's part. Because after a week of no school for all the kids, followed by a week of pseudo-school (9 to 2:30, what the HELL is that?), for 3 kids, followed by NOT A SINGLE FULL WEEK OF SCHOOL UNTIL THE END OF OCTOBER = CRAZY INTERNET LADY.

So! How are you?