Rumblings: Part One

The past couple of months have been interesting.  With The Princess's annual IEP coming up, along with the looming 3-year reassessment, there's been a lot to do.

While we've been preparing for these meetings, we've heard some rumblings concerning the programs available to special needs kiddos in our area.  Nothing has been released officially, but we keep hearing rumors that a town in our county has decided to pull all of their autistic children out of the special education district programs in favor of fledgling programs that will be initiated by the local school district come this fall.  To save money.  They never even ran this past the parents.

Needless to say, we hoped these were just rumors.

A day or two after we filled out the grueling 3-year re-evaluation (a twenty-two page packet of depressing questions and observations, a truly nasty document that requires copious amounts of chocolate to deal with), The Hubbs received a phone call.

The Fabulous Mrs. G. was calling to talk about what's going to happen next year.  Evidently, the rumors are true.  All of the kids in a district two towns over have been pulled from the special education district, and their home district is going to start their own autism program.  This is in progress all around the county.  The parents have no choice. Mrs. G. wanted to let us know, because our little town apparently had yet to make a decision one way or the other.

I immediately started researching who I should talk to, which offices to call, which feathers to ruffle, in order to make sure our girl continues to get the level of care and service she has become accustomed to during her three years with The Fabulous Mrs. G., who - by the way - has been doing this for twenty-nine years.  I can't imagine changing everything up on her now, not after the amazing progress she's made with this team.

Once I finished breathing in and out slowly into a paper sack, I started to form a plan of action.  I'd start with the special ed coordinator at The Princess's home district, as well as the superintendent.  I was armed with all of the contact information for the members of our county board who represent our district.  I just couldn't trust my voice not to break or my tears not to flow.

I had to do this right.  And that meant it would have to wait.

Ever Wonder...

...what happens when you whip your head to the side while someone is trimming your hair? 

That's right: you get a brand-new short haircut.  That's really cute.  But totally not what your momma intended when she set out to give you a trim.

But it's okay, because you're flippin' adorable.

Sorry

I'm sitting at the dinner table, minding my own business, when - zing, SPLAT! - I find myself the victim of airborne marinara sauce.

Turning to my left, I see a little girl who is just bursting at the seams with the effort she's putting forth.  Tears have popped into her eyes, and she's trying with all her might not to laugh.

But I'm no fool.  Her empty spoon is held high.  Think catapult.

Me: Princess, we NEVER throw food at the table.  That is NOT funny.

The Princess: Heh.

Me: Oh, no.  This is not funny.  It makes me very sad that you would throw your food at me.  Please say you're sorry.  (Showing her the sign for "sorry")

The Princess vehemently shakes her head from side to side, cackling.

The Hubbs is turning purple.

Me: Excuse me, Princess!  We never act like that.  You hurt my feelings.  Please say you're sorry.  (Showing the sign for "sorry" again)

The Princess points straight at me and grins, on the verge of giggles. 

Me: ... (Shooting daggers out of my eyes)

The Hubbs is doubled over in his seat.  I think he may need to start breathing into a paper bag soon.

The Princess carefully forms a fist with her left hand, placing it against her chest and moving it in a small circle, perfectly displaying the sign for "sorry" while pointing her spoon at my face and belly laughing.

What do I choose to take from this?  The fact that she said she was sorry.  So she didn't mean it.  What five-year-old does, really?

Look, Mom...I'm People!

In case you don't know us in real life, The Princess is actually our third child.  Our kids are each a year apart, all born in the spring. 

Our oldest, Bubbles, tends to have skin issues from time to time.  These issues range in type, but the one thing they all have in common is her ability to obsess about them and make them worse.  Only one thing seems to cure her obsession: shirts.

Stick this kid in a tee shirt, and she's as happy as a pig in...ahem.  Well, I'm sure you get the idea.

She bounds around the house with her head held high, grinning and wagging her whole body.  Sometimes, I guess it's the little things that make all the difference in a girl's day.