Bad News Comes in Threes

It has been a rough week. After learning Monday morning that Love Bug was being expelled from daycare permanently, a co-worker shared the news that a customer died from injuries sustained in a car crash that same morning. The woman had been attending training in the county near us. She was trying to better herself after years working in the manufacturing field. Through the Trade Act program she was able to go to training without any cost to her. I worked hard to find a solution for her because her testing scores were low, but we found a program that allowed her to increase her academic levels and prepare her for the occupational training. She had hoped to become a counselor. Just a week prior to the accident, she had been in the office meeting with one of her case managers. I didn't get a chance to talk to her because I was busy. She was so happy and excited to be in training, so proud of herself for how she was succeeding, even though the work was hard. She was on her way to class the morning of her death. A tractor trailer truck failed to stop in a construction zone. It slammed into my customer's car and hit two other vehicles before being stopped by a tree alongside the road. My customer as the only fatality, but others were hospitalized. When the training provider emailed me the next day to let me know what had happened, she expressed condolences and shared the consolation was our customer's strong faith. I hope she is resting in peace.

Since bad news comes in threes, I found out on Friday that it was my CHOR family worker's last day. She had taken a different job helping unaccompanied minors coming into our country. It is important work for her, not only because her family is from Mexico, but because she truly cares about young people and giving them a shot at a better life. She has been my family worker twice and always ca friendly face I knew I could count on at CHOR. I will miss her greatly, but I hope she is able to use her passion to help our community be a better place.

No Solution

Love Bug is now five years old. He celebrated his birthday yesterday with cherry cupcakes and a meltdown at the movie theater because I didn’t send money for him to get popcorn. The daycare has been working with me, they continue to allow him to attend. Wednesday they moved him to the upstairs school age room. He had an amazing day and did well on Thursday too. I am holding my breath and waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be honest. I don’t want to look the gift horse in the mouth, but I am fairly certain this is a honeymoon with the novelty of being in a different room. At some point, I’m sure the other behaviors will emerge. And I am trying to find an alternative solution. I have spent the entire week calling every place I can think or that was suggested to me, in hopes of finding a special needs daycare. It seems to be an impossible task. I have four sheets of papers full of notes from all of the places I have called. I posted on the local autism support Facebook page asking for suggestions. I posted the same plea on my own page and on a local foster-adopt page. I chased down all of the suggestions but still nothing has panned out. I called the local behavioral crisis management line and we will be getting a case manager, but that takes time. I called the state post-permanency hotline and we will get case advocacy and respite from them. We are also getting an advocate from the Disability Network of the state. I called our mental health insurance case manager for help and spoke with the supervisor of the wrap around providers. Still, nothing has resulted in a place for Love Bug to go when I am at work. I am seriously considering opening a special needs daycare because this is simply insane. Our local IU (intermediate unit) basically told me there is nothing for kids in the summertime, I need to wait for him to start school. That is a really long time from now, when we are dealing with an eviction notice. We need help and we need help now. I called an acute partial hospitalization provider (waiting on a call back). That might be our only option. The supervisor from the wrap around service provider really wants me to medicate my child. I really don’t want to do that until we have a better understanding of his diagnosis. Our 7/22 appointment with the neuropsychologist cannot come soon enough. A friend of a friend put me in touch with a woman whose now-grown son is autistic. We spent nearly two hours on the phone talking about the things she had to do 15 years ago to help her son. It was encouraging to hear her son, who is now 20, is in college and doing well. But, it was discouraging that she thought this was an impossible task for a single parent. She stated she could not imagine “doing this” alone. She quit her job to stay home and help her son. She mentioned another mother she knows who left a corporate job to become a teacher so she could be there for her autistic son. I am the sole provider for our family. If I do not work, we will quickly be in a dire situation. I cannot be such an anomaly as a single parent of an autistic child needing full-time daycare, can I? I might be. But, what I am also is tenacious. I will not give up until I find a solution that helps Love Bug and works for us as a family.    

The End of the Road

My heart aches, my eyes are swollen from crying. Love Bug has been kicked out of his daycare. They feel he is too much of a danger to himself and his classmates because he continually tries to escape not only the room but the building and he is increasingly physical in his tantrums. The TSS doesn't seem to be making much headway with him. His mobile therapist only has limited hours. And the daycare does not have the staff to deal with Love Bug's issues. They issued the edict this morning via a phone call while I was at work. I immediately began searching our options. They are very limited. We need a daycare that can accommodate Love Bug's needs and also be willing to transport the kids from our elementary school when school starts. There are not many daycares willing to pick up from our elementary school. There might be less than 4 in the whole city. And the two I spoke to were not appropriate for Love Bug with large class sizes and no one-on-one attention. I called every possible resource, including our local contact for disabilities (we are going to get a case manager) and the local autism resource group. I even posted on Facebook to find help. Thus far I have found a lot of no's. The mobile therapist came over tonight and Love Bug had a massive meltdown. We all ended up on the floor until he calmed down. And then we talked about options, of which there are few. At this point we are seriously considering a partial hospitalization program. So much for kindergarten. As I watched the dishes I heard Love Bug sobbing in his bed, "I don't want to leave my daycare. I don't want to leave my friends." And my heart broke even more.


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Belated Father's Day

For the second year in a row, we didn’t really celebrate my dad on Father’s Day. Last year my mom was mad at me and my sister, so they went away for the weekend. This year, my mom was not feeling very well after her chemotherapy and my dad didn’t want to tax her with a celebratory meal. Conversely, last year on Mother’s Day my family and my sister and brother-in-law waited around for hours to see our mom after she got home from the hospital. This year we had a nice breakfast at Cracker Barrel to celebrate my mom. These minor events show a greater picture of the relationship my parents have. In my opinion, my mother is more selfish and self-centered than my father. I suggested we try to do something low key this weekend for my dad. I’m not sure if it will happen. The kids and I did take him a card, one I felt really spoke to how I feel about my father. It expressed how much he meant to our family and thanked him for being a hard worker and helper, which I feel he is for us. The kids gave him big hugs and I know he appreciated their affection. I know my father is a more simple man, content to receive little appreciation. I wish we could do more for him because I think he deserves more than what he gets. I know my kids appreciate him. Love Bug is enthralled with my father and everything he does around the farm. He is always so excited to help him build the camp fire to roast marshmallows and he loves when my dad takes him for a ride in the truck. The last time we were up to the farm, Love Bug sat on the porch swing and talked my dad’s ear off, about what I do not know. They are buddy’s. I’m glad they have that special relationship. My dad is a very special man and a very good father.

Can Do

I have hated my body since third grade when I needed to start wearing a bra. A real one, with cups and all. I was mortified when the boys in my class snapped the band on my bra, gleefully announcing to the whole class that I was wearing one. My stupid developing body wouldn’t stop there and my ample chest was a point of conversation until I was homeschooled in eighth grade. I tried really hard to take better care of my body when I was trying to get pregnant with my ex-husband. But, once again my body let me down and I felt justified in my zealous  distain of my body.

 

During the yoga retreat I tried stand up paddle boarding for the first time. Standing up on the board was much harder than I thought it was going to be. When I tried to stand the first time, I got myself into a pike position, emulating downward dog, and I could not for the life of me figure out how to stand erect. Slowly, with much effort and tons of wobbling, I stood up. I managed to stay on my board, belly flopping once but landing on my board and not in the water. In fact, I stood up a total of three times. I was immensely proud of myself when I was actually able to paddle with some conviction the third time I stood. As I became more comfortable paddling upstream, I actually had a positive thought about my body. Despite my poor care of it, my body managed to produce that day on the river. It did something I didn’t think it would. My body was not this broken piece of trash, to be berated as useless and worthless. It still needs a lot of work and I am nowhere near believing my body is a temple or anything like that, but to acknowledge it could do something I wanted it to do, even if it took a lot of effort, was encouraging. I plan on going  to local stand up paddle board events this summer to increase my strength and ability. My body can’t make babies, but there are other things it *can* do.

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PDA

PDA. I was searching for ways to help my Love Bug when he struggles at daycare and at home. I found PDA. Last week if you had said PDA to me, I would have thought Public Displays of Affection. This is not the meaning I think of now. PDA is Pathological Demand Avoidance. Just the name resonates with me when I consider Love Bug’s behaviors. But, when I read more and when I completed the questionnaire, it was like unlocking a huge door in understanding my little guy. Essentially, at their core, the meltdowns Love Bug has are really panic attacks related to the number of demands that have been placed on him. He short-circuits, hits an overload and just goes buck wild. I found it oddly confirming to read some of the strategies listed because I have already implemented some of them to illicit cooperation from Love Bug. I’m not perfect, by any means, but the injection of humor or distractions is definitely something I’ve been using, mostly successfully, to keep Love Bug from an explosive issue. What drew me into this finding was reading about children who seem to “pass” verbally and socially when it comes to ASD, but in reality they are not doing so well. When it listed charming as one of the ways kids with PDA cope with demands, I knew in my heart-of-hearts this was what plagues my Love Bug. I text the mobile therapist and asked if he has ever heard of this. I know the mobile therapist is feeling pretty frustrated with my little guy these days. But, if he can see that Love Bug is not reacting to misbehave, but he is having a version of a panic attack, maybe he can help us to better manage the stress Love Bug is feeling. This potential diagnosis also helps explain why all the structure that the Early Intervention group touted as the golden ticket, didn’t sit well with me as the answer to helping Love Bug. He likes structure to know what is going to happen, but he mostly likes not having demands placed on him. The bottom line for autistic kids with the PDA sub-type is they need to be in control.

 

I don’t know if anyone will take my discovery seriously. I’m not a mental health professional, after all. I am, however, a Love Bug expert and if I was already using some of the strategies listed, implanting more of the same could be beneficial, I would think. Still, I don’t expect anyone to take my word for it. I will be talking to the neuropsychologist when we have our first visit in July. I want him to find the right diagnosis to help Love Bug, so I want to give him things to ponder, to see if those things fit. I fully recognize I could be wrong. But, I started crying when I tried to read the case studies of the young children who were diagnosed because it was like every piece of the puzzle was just clicking right into place. So, I want to work on adapting some of the other listed strategies and when I see things working, I want to help explain to the daycare staff, the school staff and the mobile therapist what works so they all can help Love Bug get along.

Emotional Recovery

After I came home from the yoga retreat I was feeling pretty poorly. Emotionally, I felt raw from the trip and I didn’t really understand why. There wasn’t anything overt that happened, other than a tense moment when my sister was running late and taking it out on me. Still, I came home feeling like a lame loser. I know my sister does not want to be like our mom, but in some ways she acts similarly. I kept mulling over in my brain why I felt judged by her. I couldn’t tell if it was just me being sensitive or if there was really a cause. I still don’t know if I have an answer. I know I was hurt that my sister left me on the hike and didn’t seem to care that I was not feeling well. Maybe it was that disappointment that made me feel like she was embarrassed to call me her sister. Maybe it is my own disgust with myself for not being the fit yoga instructor, high-power, world-traveler like her. In comparison, my life is rather dull. Only, it isn’t. I have a lot of excitement caring for my children and our crazy little circus of animals. And, I would never want a job that I can’t walk away from for a weekend to enjoy myself. I know my sister has a doom and gloom vision for the family farm. She professed having zero attachment to our childhood home, which made me feel so sad. I love taking my kids to the farm and would hate to not have that option anymore. My sister thinks my parents should dump the farm, she sees it as worthless. I have hopes to help save the farm, to make it a working farm again. We were the fourth generation on my dad’s side to have lived on the farm. My grandmother moved there in the depression when she was three years old. My dad grew up there. We grew up there. This is all worthless to my sister. The farm grounds me, I always feel a sense of peace when I am there. I like my home, but I long for the country with space and not concrete around me. Financially, I can do nothing for the farm. My sister says she refuses and if our parents need help, it will have to be on her terms. I wish I had more time to dedicate to the farm. I would love for my kids to grow up running through the creek, up and down the hills of the farm. I thought it was an idyllic childhood.

 

I have recovered emotionally, from the retreat. I will see my sister again on the Fourth of July for a family picnic. I’m hoping with other people there to act as a buffer, the same defeated feelings won’t return. I know we have made different choices for our lives, but no path is lesser or greater than the other. My sister does not want children and I respect her decision. I hope she never feels like I judge her for making that choice. I wanted to be a mother enough to do it on my own. I feel like my choice is judged and my mothering is found wanting. And that is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to evaluating my life choices. I find it much harder to not care about what my family thinks. Personally, I like my life. It can get crazy, but it is full. I love my children and I am grateful I have the immense pleasure of raising them, trauma warts and all. I guess, more than anything, I would like to feel understood and that just doesn’t seem possible. I know, when we were growing up, my sister looked up to me. She slept with me for more years of our childhood than not. She told me all her secrets, shared all her hopes and joys with me. She was a sensitive child and much of the time she felt like I was the only one who understood her. I don’t know when I switched from cool older sister to pathetic reject that is unfortunately a family member. I’m probably over-reacting. I hope.  

Structured Daycare

The Early Intervention teacher does not like our daycare. She tried, in the past, to get me to switch Love Bug to a head start or some other “more structured” program. I balked at the idea of switching daycare providers. I had, and still have, many valid reasons for not jumping ship.

 

1. Love Bug has only ever gone to two different daycare centers. Before he entered daycare he was with another foster mother. He has been going to this daycare since he was a little over a year old. He knows everyone and they all know him. They are our community.
2. Moving Love Bug to a more structured daycare might be splitting up the kids. Chica Marie is too old for head start programs and might not be able to attend the same center as Love Bug.
3. The logistics of changing daycares is daunting. I well remember the stress of finding a new daycare when my friend closed hers. I’m loathe to do that again because one person feels I should.
4. This daycare picks up the kids from their school, which is hard to find because we are on the edge of the city. Plus, they don’t charge extra for the pick-up.
5. I trust the daycare. I trust that they want to help my kids, to see them grow to their full potential. It is a smaller daycare and I like that it feels like a little family.
6. It is super-close to my job, which is nice and convenient. It also gives me comfort to know my children are nearby.
7. The daycare is flexible and works with me. My shift at work doesn’t change but there are times I need to be at a training somewhere and they are ok with my bringing the kids in a little earlier or picking them up a little later.
8. They know Primero and understand that sometimes he might drop the kids off or pick them up in my stead.
9. Moving Love Bug to a more structured daycare might help him in the long run, but the initial transition would be brutal. He does not like change and going to a new daycare would make for some very trying mornings.
10. When Love Bug’s teacher found out that he wasn’t going to make it to his pre-school graduation because it was the same night as Primero’s, she offered to take him along and keep him at her house until I could pick him up. You can’t pay for that type of kindness and dedication.  

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Failing to Bring Two Families Together

Primero’s graduation went mostly without any issues. I managed to save really good seats just a few rows behind him for me and my family. I tried to save the whole row for the rest of his family, but it was not possible. There were a lot of people trying to get good seats and I couldn’t defend an entire row. I did see his mom, older brother, and his brother’s girlfriend walking in. I greeted them and they were content to stay near the back because the girlfriend is expecting and needs to use the restroom repeatedly. I didn’t see his aunt and uncle come in, but I did see his other aunt and she also stayed near the back of the auditorium. I had no cell reception, so I took a gamble and walked to the doors, leaving my seats to the watchful eye of a trusted school security guard. Luckily, I found my sister and brother-in-law walking in and I was able to give them their tickets and show them to their seats. My sister and I then went back to wait for my mom. My dad was late and didn’t sit down until after the graduate procession. I was emotional during the very rambunctious ceremony. Honestly, the audience was wild and so loud I could not hear the names being announced when the kids received their diplomas. The speak was good and much of the ceremony was in English and Spanish.

Once the ceremony was over, everyone was ushered outside for pictures and whatnot. It was chaos and I lost my family because I had to use the bathroom first. But, once I found them, we were able to take pictures and begin talking about dinner. I had text Primero that we could try to do a group dinner and he said he would like that. I invited my parents and my sister and he spoke with his family. I’m not sure how or why, but his aunt and uncle declared he should “just go with them” meaning my family and they refused to participate. This somehow translated to his mom into an Us vs. Them situation and she also refused to go along. Primero stated he was angry and then his mom got worked up and declared he was treating her like shit. I honestly don’t see how because he walked away to say good-bye to some friends and snap some last minute pictures. She huffed off with his oldest brother and his girlfriend. Primero’s other aunt had to get to work, but she was so happy to see Primero graduate. His former teacher drove over an hour to attend his graduation but she had to get home to prepare for a 12 hour car ride to Chicago the next morning. His ex-girlfriend and her daughter were also in attendance. 

After his family dispersed and my family headed to Appleby's, his friend headed out with us and my sister text stating they needed to leave. They had actually come up for a friends wedding but arrived earlier than scheduled to attend the graduation. I was so bummed that Primero's family didn't decide to attend dinner with us. I was even more upset to hear how they seemed to turn it into a drama issue. I wanted the day to be able Primero and celebrating him and his accomplishment. I understand it was the first time both sides of the family would be spending any real time together, but couldn't we all be adults for Primero's sake? I am hoping his family will attend the graduation party we are planning for the end of July or beginning of August. Fingers crossed. 

Graduation Mayhem

Today my oldest son is graduating from high school. It is a momentous occasion, one that was very uncertain for almost all of this school year. We have been through a lot to get to this point and now it is time to celebrate. Except… Last night I had to call a crisis intervention hotline because Chica Marie said she wanted to die. She even told Primero she was going to hurt herself with scissors she had in her backpack. It was a long night. Even after talking to the crisis counselor, she refused to go to sleep. I know she is struggling with leaving the teacher she had for the last two years. I know she doesn’t yet have the coping skills to deal with those big feelings. It doesn’t make it any easier. I didn’t really want to over-react, I feel like most of it was for attention, but I wanted her to know I take it seriously when she says the things she said. Her mobile therapist is going to follow up with her today at school.

 

Additionally, it is hard to concentrate on celebrating Primero because of my worry for Love Bug. He is also graduating tonight but I will not be there. His daycare teacher has graciously agreed to take him with her and then take him to her home until I can pick him up. I know she knows him (she isn’t his main teacher, but she has been at the center longer than my kids have been going there, so she knows us) and he knows her, but I worry about how he will act without me there. It is a worry I have all the time, but specifically tonight because the daycare teacher is being so kind to help us out, I don’t want Love Bug to give her a hard time. I am hoping the excitement will buoy his spirits and not cause him to over-load. He was pretty riled up this morning and made us late because he was refusing to go get his shoes on and leave the house.

 

Other periphery issues include my mom having cancer again. The ovarian cancer metastasized and she will be starting another round of chemo next week. There are some concerns about both sides of Primero’s family (biological and adoptive) meeting for the first time. His mother is going to be there as well as his oldest brother, Mr. J, his brother’s girlfriend, aunts and uncle, and his ex-girlfriend and her child. My parents, sister and brother-in-law will be there as well. We had talked about going to dinner, but I don’t know what Primero has decided. I know he worries about there being awkwardness and tension. I hope everyone can just be adults, but one just never knows. It does seem to be a powder keg.  

 

I want this to be a celebratory experience for my Primero. He has worked hard and I want him to know how proud I am of him and how much his hard work has paid off. I have to, even if it is momentarily, put everything else aside so this day is special for him.

Exhausted

I am thoroughly exhausted. I spent the weekend at a yoga retreat, which sounds relaxing but was not, for many reasons. Physically, there were activities that kept us hopping. Emotionally, there was drama with other participants and difficulties with my sister. Initially I was going to travel with the group leader and others from Harrisburg to West Virginia. At the last minute, my sister decided she didn't want to drive five hours alone. She was going to meet the same group in Hagerstown. After securing a ride she changed her mind again and asked if I would meet her in D.C and drive her car to the destination. I explained that I didn't want to leave Primero without transportation, so I couldn't drive down to her place. She suggested I check the train. She would cover the cost. So, I ended up taking the train from Lancaster, to Philly and then onto D.C. And, because my sister was going to be on conference calls, I also needed to take the metro to her place. For the return train, I had to leave early Monday morning, which meant one more night away from the kids, plus I had to get up at 2:50 am to take a Lyft to catch the 4:30 am train.

The trip down to West Virginia was long because we hit some traffic and also kept running into rain storms. My sister spent most of the time working on her computer, so I tried to not chatter too much so I didn't disturb her. We stopped once for a late lunch, just outside D. C. and once for gas and to switch drivers. We arrived in time for dinner at the group cabin at the retreat. We met most of the fellow participants and tried to determine where we would be bunking. The leader of the group disappeared and my sister ended up knowing one of the participants because she used to date her cousin and they were in 4-H together. So, they mentioned they had three empty beds and we decided to bunk with the 4-H girl, her friend and two women friends close to our mother's age. This ended up being a blessing, since our group got along well with no drama.

We had an early outdoor yoga class Saturday morning. The Friday night class was cancelled due to rain. The ground was still soggy and the trees still drippy, but the class was a good one. We cleaned up quickly and changed to get ready for stand up paddle boarding. After a 30 minute ride and a bus break-down, we arrived at a wide river where gleaming boards were lined up waiting for us. We were given a life preserver, assigned a board and paddle and after a few minutes of instruction, we were out on the river. There was a strong current due to waterfalls just upstream, but there were quiet areas. We paddled to a calm stretch and then I tried to stand up from the kneeling position. It was incredibly hard, I honestly didn't think I would be able to stand up, but I persevered and managed to make it to a shaky standing position. I stood for  bit but eventually belly flopped on my board. I was happy I didn't land in the water. I managed to get back on my feet, but soon I was fatigued and sat back down. We eventually did some meditation on our boards before being instructed to paddle to a cliff alongside the river for a group photo. I tried paddling sitting down, but it was hard to get momentum. I stood up again and finally found my footing. I was able to move more easily and quickly. I was so proud of myself. My sister bragged that she did some yoga poses on her board.

We had lunch back at the retreat before heading out for a hike. I joked with my sister that she would not want to hike with me, she promised she would hike ahead and wait for me to catch up, like she did with her husband. We set off and pretty soon I was left behind, in my sister's dust. Another participant, known for being the clown of the group, stayed behind with me. He chatted and played music as we hiked along. We finally caught up to the rest of the group at the end of the hike, overlooking the huge bridge spanning the gorge. We snapped a few pictures, drank some water, and started the trek back. As I trudged up the include surrounded by wild rhododendron bushes, the air was heavy and thick. I was having an allergy flare up and could not breathe through my nose. I began to wheeze and feel lightheaded. I stopped and leaned on a tree to catch my breath. I tried to encourage my hiking partner to move on without me. There were plenty of people on the train if something were to happen to me. But, he refused. Once I was able to breathe a bit better, we slowly made our way down the trail. We almost made a wrong turn, but eventually we met up with the rest of the impatient group, who were already waiting in their cars. I was feeling pretty awful. We rode back to the main cabin and showered before having a nice steak dinner.

Some of the drama that was evident in part of the group began to ooze out when the majority of the participants went on an evening hike to see the fleeting sunset. One of the women made a scene and got angry because a few of us were on our phones around the camp fire. I was checking to see if Primero had contacted me to say good night to the kids. My sister and two other women were sharing yoga music on Spotify. I was feeling so awful, I was tired and I just wanted to say good-night to my kids and go to bed. I let my mouth loose and suggested the woman get a life, unkindly. Not long after, we were able to get back to our cabin to get to bed. Then the group leader came and interrupted our evening to talk about more drama that happened with the drunken group of participants.

I was not sleeping well in the bunk bed. There wasn't a pillow that worked for me and I tossed and turned, in addition to my head cold/allergies. I ended up leaving the sleeping loft and moving to the sofa. The next morning all but one other woman got up with my sister and joined her yoga class. I really wanted to go, but I was feeling so terrible, I just couldn't get myself in gear. I did get some Advil from my sister, but she never asked if I was feeling better or why I was asleep on the couch in the living room. The other woman and I were invited to have breakfast with the neighboring cabin, who made an egg scramble over a fire. They even had creamer for their coffee. I was feeling much better after breakfast. I got myself ready for white water rafting, worrying about how long it was taking the yoga class to get back. My sister rushed into the cabin and hurriedly got ready while barking orders at me. She got angry when I tried to explain the directions to where we needed to meet the bus for rafting. I got angry back and told her she needed to stop yelling at me, especially since I was trying to help.

Rafting was amazing and it was a beautiful, warm and sunny day. The ride back was also a thrill, as the road was steep, twisty, and narrow. We packed our stuff, ate a quick lunch, and hit the road. I did the lion's share of the driving until I had to stretch and use the restroom. My sister drove the last hour or so until we reached her place.

In order to be able to participate in the rafting, I needed to find an early morning train on Monday. The last train on Sunday left at 6 and didn't get back to Lancaster until almost midnight. So, I took a train at 4:30, meaning I had to get up at 2:50 am. When I got home, I needed to get Primero to school. I thought Chica Marie had school but when I went to drop her off, a sign on the door said school was closed. I had planned to keep Love Bug home with me because I know my being gone was going to put him in a funk. I ate a quick breakfast and wanted to lie down for a little before leaving for an appointment with the nutritionist. The kids fought with each other incessantly, making napping impossible. After my appointment Primero told me the washer was not working. He said it was not emptying the water. I fiddled with it, but I'm pretty sure the drum belt is broken or something like that. After Chica Marie's baseball game, I gave the kids a bath and then collected the dirty laundry and took it to the laundromat. I was finally able to get to bed just before midnight.

Today I went to Love Bug's IEP meeting and work. I took Love Bug to his baseball game but he was not having any part of it. I couldn't get him on the field, he ran off and was not listening at all. So, we left. But, not before he screamed at me and kicked me while I tried to strap him into his carseat. I ugly cried the whole way home. I had forgotten how my sister makes me feel inconsequential and lame. Only to hear all the problems with Love Bug and be essentially told no therapies will help him because I don't want to change daycares for a place more structured. I felt so worthless. A worthless sister. A worthless mother. Just generally incompetent and incapable of doing anything correctly. Maybe some sleep will help.