It’s funny (in a “she may have serious mental health problems” kind of way) that my blog is so up and down. If you see one or two of those posts like yesterday’s or the day before’s, you will almost certainly find a much happier one following almost immediately on their heels.
Maybe it’s not that I’m crazy, but maybe life is cyclical like that.
Or maybe I’m just crazy. Quinn has to get it from somewhere.
So, without further ado, my Subsequently Happy Post:
Jack did so much better at school that I can’t quite contain my happiness. He lasted all day. At pick up, both his teacher and his aide told me what a good day he had. Then the principal left me a message on my cell phone tonight to let me know how well he did.
I feel really lucky to have what seems to be really good staff around Jack.
Oddly though, his lunch came home entirely untouched. And there was a little cake in there. He never would have passed that up.
His lunchbox didn’t come home yesterday, so I’m wondering if he got sent to lunch with yesterday’s empty or much-depleted lunchbox. I can’t quite figure it out, and he’s absolutely no help. He agreed with everything I asked him.
All I know is that he inhaled the pizza I pulled out of the fridge for him after school.
Unfortunately, because Jack has been identified as a “runner,” he is not trusted to go on the regular bus yet. This means that instead of walking a block from my house at 3:15 every day to wait for the bus, now I have to drive near the school, park, then walk to the kindergarten pick-up zone by 3 p.m. every day.
Happily, the school says they’re willing to revisit the issue before too long.
Interestingly, I think the bus is the place he would be happiest. I know they are afraid that he would get off at the wrong stop, but Sam would be sitting right next to him.
(“I want to sit next to Jack on the bus every day,” Sam said before school started. “Jack, you can decide where on the bus we sit, okay?”)
Jack had his first occupational therapy session this evening. And because professionals are apparently not allowed to work with my kids unless they are the cutest women to walk the earth, Jack’s OT is a beautiful young woman with light red hair, gorgeous green eyes, and a nose ring.
I looooooooooooovvveee her.
She seems to be on top of her game too. I really liked the information she gave me, how she worked with Jack, and what she noticed about him.
Sam was less thrilled that Jack got to go into the fairy tale land of OT. He just got a peek at one of the therapy rooms from the waiting area, but that was enough for him. He is intensely jealous.
In a pique of frustration he muttered, “I wish I was…autism.”
Hilarious. I was speechless.
A literal and metaphorical snapshot of my kids:
Jack has his fingers in his ears to block out the tantrum that is occurring adjacent to him. Sam is absolutely devastated that
he is not autistic and therefore does not get occupational therapy Jack gets something he doesn’t get. Quinn seizes the opportunity to suck up by chiming in, “I’m happy! See? I’m happy!”
Welcome to Stimeyland. It might be a bumpy ride.