As I had mentioned earlier, Anthony's behavioral issues had forced us into putting him on a half day at school temporarily while I sought professional help for him. While the legal issues had this search somewhat sidelined, we're back on track and set to start a slew of doctor visits starting next week. I have known how urgent this is, but today I discovered I may have yet another large battle in front of me.
The teacher and principal asked me to come in to discuss progress today. At first, the half days had been progressing just as poorly as the full days, but two weeks ago we started to see a turn around. He had begun calming himself on his own, not lashing out, and generally showing signs of better control. Part of me thinks this may be a reaction to the disruption in his homelife. It almost feels like he's trying to hold it together for my sake. But the change has been quite positive, and I had been taking it as a small victory, a sign of positive changes to come. With this renewed appearance of positive behavior, I figured that the therapy options I was seeking out would be to reinforce it and continue with keeping him in this great state. With this help coming from the homefront, he'd be able to continue at his school with reduce in stress all across the board, for teachers, myself, and himself.
But apparently the school district has been labouring under a much different plan. Unbeknownst to me, when the teachers had originally called in for a behavioral specialist, the district supervisors were demanding a change in his placement immediately. Apparently the teachers and principal were attempting to fend off this decision, as they know as well as I this is not the best course for Anthony. Sherwood has been a loving, stable, and supportive environment for him, and we've seen tremendous growth in other areas for him there. He has made strong bonds with the teachers and staff, as well as his peer group. He is showing more and more success academically, since he has had inclusion in the gen ed class room each day.
The suggestion the district is pursuing would be removing him from this school entirely, placing him another one, and into a lower functioning behavioral support class. This is a nice term for "where we dump the kids who are too screwed up to be in a regular class environment". Picture a pint size padded room. He would be removed from the gen ed class environment that he has thrived in. He would be yanked from the support structure he has developed where he is, and at the vulnerable place he is emotionally because of this breakup, I cannot imagine a worse move for him right now.
I'm furious that the district was even discussing this in my absence. Did they think they would just bulldoz this passed me? They don't want to wait and see what the doctors come up with, they just want to push forward with a move.
While I do understand the critical point my son is at, that's no reason to push forth with a permanent decision that could negatively affect his progress. Yes, I undestand his behavior has disrupted the classroom. Yes, I understand that the teachers have run out of methods to help him. But that's why I am stepping up the fervence in uncovering outside help. I have the means now, and I am doing it. The first set of appointments are days away. But it seems like the district is eager to just give up on him, and shove him away where they don't have to focus. And heck, I'm sure the decision also comes with some monetary savings to them, since it would remove the need for him having an in class behavioral aid. But just because it's an easy answer does not make it the right one!
I'm grateful that the teacher and principal both agree with me on this. When I asked why it wasn't brought to my attention sooner, they told me that because they were already fighting it, they thought the situation would dissipate without having to worry me. These people are fighting for my kid. And now, I will fight for him with added vengeance. If the district thought I was difficult before, wait til they see me go full force against a placement change!
According to law, they have to meet with me to discuss a placement change within his IEP. If this goes as far as that meeting, I will be adament about being against the switch, which I believe could push us into a court battle. But I will have what's best for my child.
Cross your fingers, folks, cause mama may be puttin on warpaint again...
Friday, January 29, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
One rough ride, pt 3 (final)
I wish I could have had my eyes open long before. I kept staring so narrowly at the path in front of me, I didn't stop to see what was happening around me. I think I was just spread so thin, I couldn't see the glaring signs in front of me. I was doing everything I could just to hold my head above water, and was so determined not to self-inflict any more turmoil into my existence. I kept sidelining things, thinking I could just face them at a time when there was a little less urgency in front of me. I won't go into too much detail, it stings too much right now, and some things are better at this point in time to just stay buried.
I will tell you that the last two weeks the rollercoaster has bucked quite a bit. I was scrambled back into the dentist's chair to attempt a partial fitting before the cleaning I had done was a moot point. I only had a narow window in which to get in for that, but I did, and now we are just waiting on me being able to afford the final fillings with a new dentist. The pain has subsided, as he temporarily repaired the cracked denture. So, when I finally decide to start eating again, I do have the ability.
The school remained frustrated with me in my lack of acquiring treatment, but were understanding to the court delays. We had a mix of good days and bad, but every good day I took in as a small but desperately needed victory.
And, well, the second court day came, and since he never responded, everything I asked for was passed into agreement. I'll have to call DCS to make an order regarding tax exemption, but it shouldn't be an issue. I fell to the floor and cried that day, for the first time, out of relief. I felt so much hanging on that day. I called the doctors I had waiting and said to move forward with the appointments I had scheduled, no further need to wait on consent forms.
In the height of all of this, Scott chose to leave. I've spent the last two weeks completely devastated by this loss, but now see how completely inevitable it was. Looking back, he pulled out of this a while ago, I just had blinders on. I will spare you the painful details of how I now came to see this, and how it all happened. These wounds are going to take some time to heal, especially since I have more important things to focus on other than my heart. During the days I throw my focus into preparing the house for Scott's departure, and for getting myself in order to face covering the few expenses we shared. I call doctors, I focus on my son. He actually had a perfect week last week, a victory I reveled in. I tell him how much he is loved, and try to ease the pain of the abandonment he too is feeling.
But the nights...well, they are rough. When kiddo is fed, read to, and tucked in, when the last phone calls can be made, when the last box can be packed and the last corner of the apartment is scrubbed...all I have is a kitten on my lap and my mind full of thoughts. The future I thought I was working towards is gone, now I have to create the vision of a new one. That future is a long hard road, but then they all are. I will stop at nothing to help my son. I will give every ounce of my being to accomplish this. Once he's stable, I can return to work. I will forfeit school for now, but that part of my dream will only be delayed, not cancelled.
And last I will turn to fixing what's now broken within. The pain of being abandoned in your time of need is a devastating one. If you really love someone, the one thing you don't do is slam the door on their face when they beg you to stay. You stand with them and fight for that love's existence. I gave so much, and in my weakest moment it was thrown back in my face. Having a heart full of love rejected so cruelly causes deep tears in one's soul that will take years to heal. Loving someone truely, they become a part of you, and when ripped away, you feel a piece of you torn, and the means to mend that hole are not always easy to find.
Right now, and probably for a while, I don't want to trust. I don't want to give. I don't ever want to risk inflicting this pain again upon myself, and certainly not my son. I know now that things hadn't been right in a long time, and I should've demanded better. But now all I'm left with is a very hard earned lesson, and a lot of pain. But also, a lot of time. And yet another chance to make my world, and my son's world, a better place.
I will tell you that the last two weeks the rollercoaster has bucked quite a bit. I was scrambled back into the dentist's chair to attempt a partial fitting before the cleaning I had done was a moot point. I only had a narow window in which to get in for that, but I did, and now we are just waiting on me being able to afford the final fillings with a new dentist. The pain has subsided, as he temporarily repaired the cracked denture. So, when I finally decide to start eating again, I do have the ability.
The school remained frustrated with me in my lack of acquiring treatment, but were understanding to the court delays. We had a mix of good days and bad, but every good day I took in as a small but desperately needed victory.
And, well, the second court day came, and since he never responded, everything I asked for was passed into agreement. I'll have to call DCS to make an order regarding tax exemption, but it shouldn't be an issue. I fell to the floor and cried that day, for the first time, out of relief. I felt so much hanging on that day. I called the doctors I had waiting and said to move forward with the appointments I had scheduled, no further need to wait on consent forms.
In the height of all of this, Scott chose to leave. I've spent the last two weeks completely devastated by this loss, but now see how completely inevitable it was. Looking back, he pulled out of this a while ago, I just had blinders on. I will spare you the painful details of how I now came to see this, and how it all happened. These wounds are going to take some time to heal, especially since I have more important things to focus on other than my heart. During the days I throw my focus into preparing the house for Scott's departure, and for getting myself in order to face covering the few expenses we shared. I call doctors, I focus on my son. He actually had a perfect week last week, a victory I reveled in. I tell him how much he is loved, and try to ease the pain of the abandonment he too is feeling.
But the nights...well, they are rough. When kiddo is fed, read to, and tucked in, when the last phone calls can be made, when the last box can be packed and the last corner of the apartment is scrubbed...all I have is a kitten on my lap and my mind full of thoughts. The future I thought I was working towards is gone, now I have to create the vision of a new one. That future is a long hard road, but then they all are. I will stop at nothing to help my son. I will give every ounce of my being to accomplish this. Once he's stable, I can return to work. I will forfeit school for now, but that part of my dream will only be delayed, not cancelled.
And last I will turn to fixing what's now broken within. The pain of being abandoned in your time of need is a devastating one. If you really love someone, the one thing you don't do is slam the door on their face when they beg you to stay. You stand with them and fight for that love's existence. I gave so much, and in my weakest moment it was thrown back in my face. Having a heart full of love rejected so cruelly causes deep tears in one's soul that will take years to heal. Loving someone truely, they become a part of you, and when ripped away, you feel a piece of you torn, and the means to mend that hole are not always easy to find.
Right now, and probably for a while, I don't want to trust. I don't want to give. I don't ever want to risk inflicting this pain again upon myself, and certainly not my son. I know now that things hadn't been right in a long time, and I should've demanded better. But now all I'm left with is a very hard earned lesson, and a lot of pain. But also, a lot of time. And yet another chance to make my world, and my son's world, a better place.
One Rough Ride, Pt 2
In the backgrounds of struggling with Anthony's issues, and the court battle about to unfold, I had another problem. A stupid, inconvenient, costly problem.
Anyone who's read this blog for a while, or who just happens to have known me well for the last 10 years, knows I wear a top denture. No teeth up there, just a giant piece of plastic. About 2 years ago, the backs of my bottom teeth also had to go away, a painful surgery indeed. I was left with ten teeth in the front of my bottom jaw. It wasn't too terribly inconvenient once I healed, I just had to learn how to eat without back molars. Physically, it's undetectable. Life went on.
In November, my top denture cracked. Straight down the front. Where the break occured, the now jagged edge cut deeply into my lip and gumline, and the resulting misalignment began to bruise my jaw. I was in pain, lots of pain. I tried to hide it as best I could, tho.
I had to go to a dentist, and he explained that in order to replace the top denture, he had to make a bottom partial to replace the molars. Those back ones missing were what caused the break to occur in the first place. Great...thousands of dollars now had to be spent (no, these little bastards aren't cheap). Thanks to my genetic condition that caused the teeth to be lost in the first place, the ones that remained in my mouth were quite weak. Since a bottom partial has to be secured against solid teeth, they had to be shored up to handle the challenge. We were to do a series of fillings on the anchor teeth, simultaneous with an intense cleaning so that the fitting for the bottom would be perfect. I set the day for this appointment to be the day after my court appearance.
So, the day of my court appearance, I had asked my neighbor to walk my son to the bus. Since I had to be there at 9, it meant leaving in a cab at 8. His bus didn't pick up until 8:30, so there was a half an hour window that I was supposed to be in two places. I figured she could handle it, but at 5am tha day she called in the throws of a drunken panic attack and insisted on going to the hospital, stranding me. No, I don't feel sory for her, she does this once a week and I find her useless. A series of frantic calls on my part ended with me hopping in a cab with kiddo, dropping him off at a nearby classmate's house for breakfast and to get on the bus with her. Then we shot towards the courthouse.
While we waited to enter room C, my ex proceeded to tell me he didn't believe that kiddo's outbursts were as bad as I was saying, and the teachers were making things up. He even asked "why isn't he in a class that can handle kids with special needs?". Christ, what the hell does he think special ed is? I tried to swallow my frustration when I walked into the courtroom and we patiently waited our turn. I didn't have a chance, tho. The judge was in a bad mood, and she was livid that apparently the person who did my serving for me had forgotten to write a date on the second line. According to her, it made the service inadmissable. My ex even admitted to her that he had indeed been served all the documents, and held them up. In truth, he had not only been served the documents, but came with me to the courthouse to file for the third rescheduled hearing. She then asked if he had been served, why he never chose to respond. "The courts assumed you were not served since you didn't respond". He babbled some BS about financial difficulties preventing him from doing so (really? a response filing costs $20. Yea, real financial stretch). She then oh-so-sweetly offered him an extra two weeks to respond, which he nodded in agreement. She then snapped at me that my parenting plan was a waste anyways, as I didn't have a specific time listed for pick up. I tried to explain that it was due to his fluctuant work schedule, but she brushed me off. As she slammed down the stamp on the continuance, I felt my heart plummet. I had to wait another two weeks to treat my son, two weeks he didn't have according to the temporary IEP. When we walked out of the courtroom, the idiot then turned to me and said "wait, why do we wait another two weeks?" Because you asked her for an extra two weeks to respond you stupid fuck.
I called my friend who did service, and had him fill out the form the rest of the way, triple checking it. I then amended the parenting plan with a specific time (7pm, bitch, ya happy?), reserved him with the amended copy, completed the second note of service, and filed it with the courts. You want the I's dotted and the T's crossed? You got it. Let's see what he does with his response, if he bothers actually doing it. For the record, he never did.
Over the next few days he would, however, proceed to tell me that any treatments I tried to acquire for kiddo were supperflous, and he wouldn't allow the expenses. He said there needed to be "proof" that kiddo was actually acting up, despite the overwhelming evidence, and my actually seeing it for myself. Granted, he only has visitation two days a month, his perspective on our son's condition is pretty damn limited. But it doesn't stop him from interfering.
My stress level intensifies, my heartache deepens, I begin to feel myself slipping out of control. I stop going to the gym. I lose my appetite, so when I cook dinner for Scott I just pick at my own plate. My teeth still hurt, so each bite is wincing anyways.
I go to the dentist the day after court, and go through an intensely painful cleaning. As she attempts to begin the fillings, we get to go over the lovely dance of my gums not wanting to accept lidocaine. I explained to her it takes twice as long and three times the dosage, but apparently she didn't believe me. The evil woman keeps drilling away, but since my nerve is still very much alive I twitch everytime she bangs into it. As she attempts to shove more lidocaine in, she ends up gashing into my bottom gum. Finally, she gave up and slammed down her tools, telling me she refused to work on me and I had to go somewhere that would gas me.
And that day, just to ice the damn cake, I received a nasty letter from unemployment. When I had originally filed for my extension, I had noted that I was requesting approval to enter school, which would have a start day of January 4th. When I never received approval, I canceled my class registration so I wouldn't be attending out of line (if you don't have approval, you must continue to look for work full time. school prevents that search). But in the letter they apparently assumed I had started anyways, and were demanding class lists and my possible withdrawl from benefits. No where on the forms was a spot to say "hey, I'm not actually going to school, because you guys never approved it!". No, this would require a bunch of phone calls, and hopefully the glitch could be worked out before I had a check denied.
Once the lidocaine that did actually take wore off, the pain was exquisite. I couldn't talk, I couldn't eat, I just burried my head in a pillow. After my ex picked up kiddo that evening, I sadly expressed to Scott that I would not be cooking dinner, and I just wanted to sit in the dark. He seemed content to wander into the bedroom and watch wrestling.
Once he left the room, I quietly cried again over the events of the week. My mouth was pure agony. My ex was pounding on my weakest nerves. My son was down to half days at school for his behavioral issues. I now had my hands tied by the courts to do anything to help him. And now I had the possibility of being removed from unemployment because they couldn't get their paperwork in line. I was brushing aside that Scott had been pulling away from me for months, and at this point was oddly picking fights with me for the tiniest things, but was bristling when over the next few days he became even more determined to be argumentative over nothing.
Anyone who's read this blog for a while, or who just happens to have known me well for the last 10 years, knows I wear a top denture. No teeth up there, just a giant piece of plastic. About 2 years ago, the backs of my bottom teeth also had to go away, a painful surgery indeed. I was left with ten teeth in the front of my bottom jaw. It wasn't too terribly inconvenient once I healed, I just had to learn how to eat without back molars. Physically, it's undetectable. Life went on.
In November, my top denture cracked. Straight down the front. Where the break occured, the now jagged edge cut deeply into my lip and gumline, and the resulting misalignment began to bruise my jaw. I was in pain, lots of pain. I tried to hide it as best I could, tho.
I had to go to a dentist, and he explained that in order to replace the top denture, he had to make a bottom partial to replace the molars. Those back ones missing were what caused the break to occur in the first place. Great...thousands of dollars now had to be spent (no, these little bastards aren't cheap). Thanks to my genetic condition that caused the teeth to be lost in the first place, the ones that remained in my mouth were quite weak. Since a bottom partial has to be secured against solid teeth, they had to be shored up to handle the challenge. We were to do a series of fillings on the anchor teeth, simultaneous with an intense cleaning so that the fitting for the bottom would be perfect. I set the day for this appointment to be the day after my court appearance.
So, the day of my court appearance, I had asked my neighbor to walk my son to the bus. Since I had to be there at 9, it meant leaving in a cab at 8. His bus didn't pick up until 8:30, so there was a half an hour window that I was supposed to be in two places. I figured she could handle it, but at 5am tha day she called in the throws of a drunken panic attack and insisted on going to the hospital, stranding me. No, I don't feel sory for her, she does this once a week and I find her useless. A series of frantic calls on my part ended with me hopping in a cab with kiddo, dropping him off at a nearby classmate's house for breakfast and to get on the bus with her. Then we shot towards the courthouse.
While we waited to enter room C, my ex proceeded to tell me he didn't believe that kiddo's outbursts were as bad as I was saying, and the teachers were making things up. He even asked "why isn't he in a class that can handle kids with special needs?". Christ, what the hell does he think special ed is? I tried to swallow my frustration when I walked into the courtroom and we patiently waited our turn. I didn't have a chance, tho. The judge was in a bad mood, and she was livid that apparently the person who did my serving for me had forgotten to write a date on the second line. According to her, it made the service inadmissable. My ex even admitted to her that he had indeed been served all the documents, and held them up. In truth, he had not only been served the documents, but came with me to the courthouse to file for the third rescheduled hearing. She then asked if he had been served, why he never chose to respond. "The courts assumed you were not served since you didn't respond". He babbled some BS about financial difficulties preventing him from doing so (really? a response filing costs $20. Yea, real financial stretch). She then oh-so-sweetly offered him an extra two weeks to respond, which he nodded in agreement. She then snapped at me that my parenting plan was a waste anyways, as I didn't have a specific time listed for pick up. I tried to explain that it was due to his fluctuant work schedule, but she brushed me off. As she slammed down the stamp on the continuance, I felt my heart plummet. I had to wait another two weeks to treat my son, two weeks he didn't have according to the temporary IEP. When we walked out of the courtroom, the idiot then turned to me and said "wait, why do we wait another two weeks?" Because you asked her for an extra two weeks to respond you stupid fuck.
I called my friend who did service, and had him fill out the form the rest of the way, triple checking it. I then amended the parenting plan with a specific time (7pm, bitch, ya happy?), reserved him with the amended copy, completed the second note of service, and filed it with the courts. You want the I's dotted and the T's crossed? You got it. Let's see what he does with his response, if he bothers actually doing it. For the record, he never did.
Over the next few days he would, however, proceed to tell me that any treatments I tried to acquire for kiddo were supperflous, and he wouldn't allow the expenses. He said there needed to be "proof" that kiddo was actually acting up, despite the overwhelming evidence, and my actually seeing it for myself. Granted, he only has visitation two days a month, his perspective on our son's condition is pretty damn limited. But it doesn't stop him from interfering.
My stress level intensifies, my heartache deepens, I begin to feel myself slipping out of control. I stop going to the gym. I lose my appetite, so when I cook dinner for Scott I just pick at my own plate. My teeth still hurt, so each bite is wincing anyways.
I go to the dentist the day after court, and go through an intensely painful cleaning. As she attempts to begin the fillings, we get to go over the lovely dance of my gums not wanting to accept lidocaine. I explained to her it takes twice as long and three times the dosage, but apparently she didn't believe me. The evil woman keeps drilling away, but since my nerve is still very much alive I twitch everytime she bangs into it. As she attempts to shove more lidocaine in, she ends up gashing into my bottom gum. Finally, she gave up and slammed down her tools, telling me she refused to work on me and I had to go somewhere that would gas me.
And that day, just to ice the damn cake, I received a nasty letter from unemployment. When I had originally filed for my extension, I had noted that I was requesting approval to enter school, which would have a start day of January 4th. When I never received approval, I canceled my class registration so I wouldn't be attending out of line (if you don't have approval, you must continue to look for work full time. school prevents that search). But in the letter they apparently assumed I had started anyways, and were demanding class lists and my possible withdrawl from benefits. No where on the forms was a spot to say "hey, I'm not actually going to school, because you guys never approved it!". No, this would require a bunch of phone calls, and hopefully the glitch could be worked out before I had a check denied.
Once the lidocaine that did actually take wore off, the pain was exquisite. I couldn't talk, I couldn't eat, I just burried my head in a pillow. After my ex picked up kiddo that evening, I sadly expressed to Scott that I would not be cooking dinner, and I just wanted to sit in the dark. He seemed content to wander into the bedroom and watch wrestling.
Once he left the room, I quietly cried again over the events of the week. My mouth was pure agony. My ex was pounding on my weakest nerves. My son was down to half days at school for his behavioral issues. I now had my hands tied by the courts to do anything to help him. And now I had the possibility of being removed from unemployment because they couldn't get their paperwork in line. I was brushing aside that Scott had been pulling away from me for months, and at this point was oddly picking fights with me for the tiniest things, but was bristling when over the next few days he became even more determined to be argumentative over nothing.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
one rough ride, Pt 1
It;s hard to say where to begin with all this. In truth, I've now rewritten this blog entry six times. There are others that are locked in private mode on here, and I do believe I shall keep them so. I openly share a lot of my struggles with the world, but the words contained in those bare even more heartbreak than I chose to express openly.
I'll have to step back a moment to relay what has transpired. I've been doing that a lot in the last two weeks, and come to some rather interesting, if saddening, conclusions. Where to begin with an explanation?
We'll start with kiddo. Everything begins and ends with him in my world.
When he was in kindergarten, it was a special education class, as per his IEP. So far the school system had only seen him as developmentally delayed child with additional speech therapy requirements. I had asked them to look at some behavioral issues that were cropping up, but as he wasn't having problems in school, I guess they put it to the side. The beginning of this year in 1st grade SPE seemed like it was off to a good start. Granted, the full day format was an adjustment for him, and we had our ups and downs, but they were manageable.
But in November, things started to turn. What started as minor fits caused by very specific triggers (change in teachers, change in routine, not wanting to go to a specific task) started spiraling into full blown meltdowns. Previously, kiddo was known for his gentle demeanor, but suddenly we noticed a pattern of outward violence emerging. Mind you, he wasn't turning into some little evil psychopath. And a lot of it seemed rather unintentional. He'd start going into meltdown, and would be flailing around which ended up with him kicking and hitting people. The teacher's were firm in stating they didn't see that he honestly wanted to hurt anyone, he was just lashing out. The meltdowns would bring everything to a screeching halt, and were causing huge disruptions. They started taking longer and longer for him to come out of them. And when he did, he had no recollection of what just happened. It is as if something in him is just snapped. In fact, after the episodes ended, he would actually start reaching out for hugs and reassurance. He started displaying periods of manic behavior, which, if interrupted by a teacher or classmate, would also result in a meltdown. Then everything started increasing in frequency, going from 1 or 2 per week to per day.
The school was desperate to have help dealing with him, and I was failing to provide it. Every doctor I called to see him I was reaching a dead end. I have been on the waitlist for Children's for what seems like an eternity, and every attempt at even finding resources was coming up empty. Add on top of this my ex husband's complete and utter inability to help at all. I begged for at least his insurance information so I could attempt to find doctors in network, only to be met with resistence. He knows he's on the hook to pay 60% of out of pocket expenses, so to combat this he digs his heels in and refuses to cooperate. Being that I was pushing our divorce paper work through the system, any doctor I did find required letters of consent from both of us, which of course he wouldn't sign.
I filed papers to put our current visitation schedule in writing, and to give me full decision making authority. Then of course there were court delays on top of court delays. So, getting kiddo treatment he desperately needed gets pushed out even further, and tears my mind into different areas.
In the month of December things began to reach a breaking point with kiddo at school. They began having to call me to remove him entirely from the school. Once...then again...then again. The teachers and I prayed that this latest set of outbursts was just due to being unsettled about the upcoming winter break.
At home for those two weeks, I struggled with his meltdowns firsthand. He doesn't have them very often here, but I was facing the pattern they were witnessing. He would punch and kick me, beat his hands against himself, and lose himself in the throws of whatever was possessing him. I had to physically restrain him, something the school can't do. And when he came out of it, he would sit on my lap, exhausted, but clinging to me.
When he returned to school at the beginning of Jan, I think we were all holding our breath. I was one week away from what should have been a court finalization on my papers, so I could get him into a doctor without interference. But we hoped that the week leading up to break was just an isolated occurance.
We were wrong. The fits picked back up, and even still increased. The school tried everything in their power, and I could hear the frustration and weariness in their voices as they called to have me retrieve him. He has an amazing set of teachers, and they love him and genuinely want to help him. But when we don't know what's wrong, it's impossible to provide help. It just becomes a vicious cycle.
Finally, the day before my court date, the teachers, school psych, and principal collected in my living room. Anthony was put on a temporary IEP adjustment taking him down to half days. The disruptions were devastating the classroom, and hopefully with reducing his time there, they could minimize the damage with the other students. It was a saddening effort for all of us. But the ramifications of what was happening were coming into jarring focus.
If I didn't get him help soon, we would be forced to place him in a lower functioning class. Up until now, his cognitive disability had not hindered him academically, so he was able to keep pace with a general ed class, with added help with a midfunctioning level special ed support class. He reads amazingly well, is working on spelling and math with his peers. But with these outbursts, he would have to be removed from general ed, and placed entirely in support instruction. The possibility of him having a normal academic structure would be painfully out of reach. His future...
The stress of watching this took it's toll, for sure. I stayed up late at night crying. There is no devastation worse than being a parent, watching your child in desperate need of help, and having your hands completely tied to provide it. I felt useless, hopeless, worthless as a mother, despaired. I would give anything for my child, but I couldn't find the one thing he needed most.
I would call my dad and my mother, crying and desperate for support. My child's own father showed no inkling of concern, I felt so alone in this battle. Was I the only one that cared about this boy? My beautiful, sweet, loving, giggling boy...
Why wasn't I leaning on my significant other, you ask? *sigh* The answer, at least for this blog entry, is tha I never expected his support in my dealings with my son. He was not the parent, this battle was not his. He had always been very clear about his role with kiddo being minimal, and I respected that boundary as best I could. Scott wasn't exactly known for being Mr. Supportive anyways, a fault I tried to overlook. It simply wasn't his fortay, he made that clear, and I had to work around that. I would reach out to my other support systems, and just fill him in so he didn't wonder why I was tear streaked and sleepless. It was an arrangement we had for a while, really ever since the death of Bob. His inability to even hold my hand through these struggles did wear on me, of course, but I was too distracted by the immediacy of what was in front of me to actually deal with that matter.
But it was about to get a lot worse on all fronts. To save a reader's eyes, I shall continue this in a seperate post.
I'll have to step back a moment to relay what has transpired. I've been doing that a lot in the last two weeks, and come to some rather interesting, if saddening, conclusions. Where to begin with an explanation?
We'll start with kiddo. Everything begins and ends with him in my world.
When he was in kindergarten, it was a special education class, as per his IEP. So far the school system had only seen him as developmentally delayed child with additional speech therapy requirements. I had asked them to look at some behavioral issues that were cropping up, but as he wasn't having problems in school, I guess they put it to the side. The beginning of this year in 1st grade SPE seemed like it was off to a good start. Granted, the full day format was an adjustment for him, and we had our ups and downs, but they were manageable.
But in November, things started to turn. What started as minor fits caused by very specific triggers (change in teachers, change in routine, not wanting to go to a specific task) started spiraling into full blown meltdowns. Previously, kiddo was known for his gentle demeanor, but suddenly we noticed a pattern of outward violence emerging. Mind you, he wasn't turning into some little evil psychopath. And a lot of it seemed rather unintentional. He'd start going into meltdown, and would be flailing around which ended up with him kicking and hitting people. The teacher's were firm in stating they didn't see that he honestly wanted to hurt anyone, he was just lashing out. The meltdowns would bring everything to a screeching halt, and were causing huge disruptions. They started taking longer and longer for him to come out of them. And when he did, he had no recollection of what just happened. It is as if something in him is just snapped. In fact, after the episodes ended, he would actually start reaching out for hugs and reassurance. He started displaying periods of manic behavior, which, if interrupted by a teacher or classmate, would also result in a meltdown. Then everything started increasing in frequency, going from 1 or 2 per week to per day.
The school was desperate to have help dealing with him, and I was failing to provide it. Every doctor I called to see him I was reaching a dead end. I have been on the waitlist for Children's for what seems like an eternity, and every attempt at even finding resources was coming up empty. Add on top of this my ex husband's complete and utter inability to help at all. I begged for at least his insurance information so I could attempt to find doctors in network, only to be met with resistence. He knows he's on the hook to pay 60% of out of pocket expenses, so to combat this he digs his heels in and refuses to cooperate. Being that I was pushing our divorce paper work through the system, any doctor I did find required letters of consent from both of us, which of course he wouldn't sign.
I filed papers to put our current visitation schedule in writing, and to give me full decision making authority. Then of course there were court delays on top of court delays. So, getting kiddo treatment he desperately needed gets pushed out even further, and tears my mind into different areas.
In the month of December things began to reach a breaking point with kiddo at school. They began having to call me to remove him entirely from the school. Once...then again...then again. The teachers and I prayed that this latest set of outbursts was just due to being unsettled about the upcoming winter break.
At home for those two weeks, I struggled with his meltdowns firsthand. He doesn't have them very often here, but I was facing the pattern they were witnessing. He would punch and kick me, beat his hands against himself, and lose himself in the throws of whatever was possessing him. I had to physically restrain him, something the school can't do. And when he came out of it, he would sit on my lap, exhausted, but clinging to me.
When he returned to school at the beginning of Jan, I think we were all holding our breath. I was one week away from what should have been a court finalization on my papers, so I could get him into a doctor without interference. But we hoped that the week leading up to break was just an isolated occurance.
We were wrong. The fits picked back up, and even still increased. The school tried everything in their power, and I could hear the frustration and weariness in their voices as they called to have me retrieve him. He has an amazing set of teachers, and they love him and genuinely want to help him. But when we don't know what's wrong, it's impossible to provide help. It just becomes a vicious cycle.
Finally, the day before my court date, the teachers, school psych, and principal collected in my living room. Anthony was put on a temporary IEP adjustment taking him down to half days. The disruptions were devastating the classroom, and hopefully with reducing his time there, they could minimize the damage with the other students. It was a saddening effort for all of us. But the ramifications of what was happening were coming into jarring focus.
If I didn't get him help soon, we would be forced to place him in a lower functioning class. Up until now, his cognitive disability had not hindered him academically, so he was able to keep pace with a general ed class, with added help with a midfunctioning level special ed support class. He reads amazingly well, is working on spelling and math with his peers. But with these outbursts, he would have to be removed from general ed, and placed entirely in support instruction. The possibility of him having a normal academic structure would be painfully out of reach. His future...
The stress of watching this took it's toll, for sure. I stayed up late at night crying. There is no devastation worse than being a parent, watching your child in desperate need of help, and having your hands completely tied to provide it. I felt useless, hopeless, worthless as a mother, despaired. I would give anything for my child, but I couldn't find the one thing he needed most.
I would call my dad and my mother, crying and desperate for support. My child's own father showed no inkling of concern, I felt so alone in this battle. Was I the only one that cared about this boy? My beautiful, sweet, loving, giggling boy...
Why wasn't I leaning on my significant other, you ask? *sigh* The answer, at least for this blog entry, is tha I never expected his support in my dealings with my son. He was not the parent, this battle was not his. He had always been very clear about his role with kiddo being minimal, and I respected that boundary as best I could. Scott wasn't exactly known for being Mr. Supportive anyways, a fault I tried to overlook. It simply wasn't his fortay, he made that clear, and I had to work around that. I would reach out to my other support systems, and just fill him in so he didn't wonder why I was tear streaked and sleepless. It was an arrangement we had for a while, really ever since the death of Bob. His inability to even hold my hand through these struggles did wear on me, of course, but I was too distracted by the immediacy of what was in front of me to actually deal with that matter.
But it was about to get a lot worse on all fronts. To save a reader's eyes, I shall continue this in a seperate post.
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Ravioli Awesomeness
Okay, so a few had asked for this "recipe", but hopefully you all understand that I don't exactly do measurements when I cook. Three things are required for this recipe: a food processor, a pasta machine, and time. If you haven't made your own pasta, please practice first! I've lived in two very different climates, and have had to tweak my recipe for the humidity.
1 cup semolina
1/2 cup AP flour
2 eggs
basil paste (optional)
olive oil
1 lb. Italian sausage
fresh basil
ricotta cheese
parmasan cheese
mozarella cheese
1 stick of butter
bacon
Step one: base pasta. Toss into the food processor 1 cup of semolina flour, a halfish cup of AP flour, and 2 eggs. Pulse until you start to see a crumbly consistency. I like to flavor the base a little more, so I use a squirt or 2 of premade pesto or basil paste. Run the processor steadily, and drizle in olive oil. You should start to see large clumps forming. Stop the processor, and spread out a healthy length of plastic wrap. Dump the contents onto the wrap, and mash into a ball. You will need to let the pasta rest for at least 1 hour before playing further. If you are leaving overnight, refridgerate, but keep in mind it will need to be remoistened.
Step two: filling. toss into food processor the sausage, 2-3 large spoonfuls of ricotta, and parm-moz cheese (I buy this pre-shredded in abag, so I'd say about 2-3 shaks of the bag. I'm guessing it's around 1/2 a cup?). Add one handful of fresh basil (just chop the large stems off). Pulse until well combined. Put into a tuperware and let "rest" for at least a hour. This helps the flavours in the goop get all friendly.
Step three: ravioli! Run the pasta through your machine in small batches, starting at the thickest flat setting, run through several times (fold, re-run, fold, rerun), then slowly working up to the next to thinnest (on mine, this is a 5). beat 2 eggs in a bowl, and place close to your work space. lay out a strip, and cut into medium sized squares (about 1.2 inches). Brush, or use your fingers, every other square with your egg wash. Using a teaspoon, place little smooshed balls of the filling mixture into the center of your washed square. Place the dry piece on top, and press around the edges. Take each piece and make sure the edges are sealed.
I like to let these finished ravioli chill in the fridge for at least another hour to make sure they've set nicely. This is a good time to cook the bacon. drain it and set it aside to crumble during the final step.
step four: awesomeness. I like to nuke my ravioli in a shallow dish with a little water for about 3 minutes to get the sausage good and cooked, and soften the shell a bit. In a large skillet, turn on med heat, and melt half the butter. toss in the crumbled bacon pieces. lay in the ravioli in 1 even layer in the pan. swirl the pan often so they don't stick. flip after about 4-5 minutes, there should be a nice golden crispy tone to the bottom of the ravs. Once they are cooked, spoon onto a plate, sprinkle some romano cheese over the tops, then pour the butter-bacon goodness over the top.
try not to eat the plate. You'll probably have a bunch of the filling mix left over (i have no idea how to buy less than a lb. of sausage, thus the overage), but if you take this and mix in 1 lb. of ground beef and some bread crumbs, you have an awesome meatball mixture.
If you are not cooking in butter, but choose to cover with a sauce, you will want to actually want to precook the sausage in your filling prior to the mixing and stuffing.
1 cup semolina
1/2 cup AP flour
2 eggs
basil paste (optional)
olive oil
1 lb. Italian sausage
fresh basil
ricotta cheese
parmasan cheese
mozarella cheese
1 stick of butter
bacon
Step one: base pasta. Toss into the food processor 1 cup of semolina flour, a halfish cup of AP flour, and 2 eggs. Pulse until you start to see a crumbly consistency. I like to flavor the base a little more, so I use a squirt or 2 of premade pesto or basil paste. Run the processor steadily, and drizle in olive oil. You should start to see large clumps forming. Stop the processor, and spread out a healthy length of plastic wrap. Dump the contents onto the wrap, and mash into a ball. You will need to let the pasta rest for at least 1 hour before playing further. If you are leaving overnight, refridgerate, but keep in mind it will need to be remoistened.
Step two: filling. toss into food processor the sausage, 2-3 large spoonfuls of ricotta, and parm-moz cheese (I buy this pre-shredded in abag, so I'd say about 2-3 shaks of the bag. I'm guessing it's around 1/2 a cup?). Add one handful of fresh basil (just chop the large stems off). Pulse until well combined. Put into a tuperware and let "rest" for at least a hour. This helps the flavours in the goop get all friendly.
Step three: ravioli! Run the pasta through your machine in small batches, starting at the thickest flat setting, run through several times (fold, re-run, fold, rerun), then slowly working up to the next to thinnest (on mine, this is a 5). beat 2 eggs in a bowl, and place close to your work space. lay out a strip, and cut into medium sized squares (about 1.2 inches). Brush, or use your fingers, every other square with your egg wash. Using a teaspoon, place little smooshed balls of the filling mixture into the center of your washed square. Place the dry piece on top, and press around the edges. Take each piece and make sure the edges are sealed.
I like to let these finished ravioli chill in the fridge for at least another hour to make sure they've set nicely. This is a good time to cook the bacon. drain it and set it aside to crumble during the final step.
step four: awesomeness. I like to nuke my ravioli in a shallow dish with a little water for about 3 minutes to get the sausage good and cooked, and soften the shell a bit. In a large skillet, turn on med heat, and melt half the butter. toss in the crumbled bacon pieces. lay in the ravioli in 1 even layer in the pan. swirl the pan often so they don't stick. flip after about 4-5 minutes, there should be a nice golden crispy tone to the bottom of the ravs. Once they are cooked, spoon onto a plate, sprinkle some romano cheese over the tops, then pour the butter-bacon goodness over the top.
try not to eat the plate. You'll probably have a bunch of the filling mix left over (i have no idea how to buy less than a lb. of sausage, thus the overage), but if you take this and mix in 1 lb. of ground beef and some bread crumbs, you have an awesome meatball mixture.
If you are not cooking in butter, but choose to cover with a sauce, you will want to actually want to precook the sausage in your filling prior to the mixing and stuffing.
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