September 2, 2008 by Marj Hatzell
I don’t know which I should be more excited about: The fact that my son started second grade or the fact that my husband FINALLY went back to work after being off for SEVENTEEN STRAIGHT DAYS. Next time we do this vacation thing? He’s only taking off for one week. Any more than three days of idle time for this guy and his head ‘splodes and his eyes roll back in his head and he gets grumpy and starts demanding bjs. Just kidding.
Bugaboo is still home. He is supposed to start on Thursday but I am thinking of keeping him home until Monday. Why go back for a day and a half? Silly. It’ll just mess him up. Plus, we’re doing the extremely expensive private therapy right now, so I think he’ll be ok. Or not. He has gotten into pasta, touch-up paint, raisins and juice today. Just for starters.
Family and friends came by for several BBQs this weekend and we had a blast. My sister brought her cute, little doggie, whom I am currently in love with. If Shadow wasn’t so freaked out by her puppiness(Is that a word? It is now.), I’d steal her in a second. See, that’s what I do. I covet dogs. Cujo, my parents dog? Wanna keep him. It better get in the will. Sandy, the dog I loved while her owners were in Montana? Wanna keep her. Kitara (not sure how to spell it, since my sister let her kid name the dog after some freaky Avatar character. Sheesh.) my sister’s mixed-breed special puppy? Want her, too. Every dog I come in contact with (just about)? Sigh. Wanna keep them. I think it is something about this connection I have with St. Francis of Assisi. Me and Nature, perfect together. Unless you are talking about using a pit-toilet. Then I’m all, “HELLO! MODERN FLUSHING TOILET!”
I watched this Intervention show last night and there was a guy with OCD on it. Scary thing is, I totally saw my mom and father-in-law in that guy. He was a neat freak (not my mom and FIL, for sure. They are packrats). But dang, the basis was there. He said and did some things I have seen and heard both my mom and FIL say. And my brother is really teetering on the edge there. To the point where he can’t sit in my living room if there is a crumb on the floor without asking for the vacuum. Or see a rumpled carpet without wanting to straighten it. And Bugaboo has just been diagnosed with OCD. See? It’s kinda a funny thing. Funny-ha-ha. Just keep adding labels and diagnosis. It’s a game, really. Let’s see what therapy the insurance companies will pay for! Let’s add acronyms and see! IT’LL BE FUN! So far he has Autism/ASD, ADHD, OCD, Bi-Polar and ENT, GI and Neuro disorders. I’m shooting for at least three more acronyms before his seventh birthday, which is when they officially will diagnose him with Mental Retardation if he is still delayed. And folks? He’s still delayed. But, DANG, this boy is SMAHT with a capital S. He can pick any lock, open any lid, OPENS CHILD SAFETY LIDS ON MEDS, takes apart baby locks, escapes without a sound and knows when he is being pursued. He’s a little stinker. I just wish he’d say, “HEY! I’m running into their house five times in two hours because THEY HAVE A BIG-SCREEN TV AND WE DON’T! Plus? They have a big rocking chair. And I remember seeing M&Ms on their coffee table!”
Daddy would be nice. And Mommy. Although he says that, through echolalia, several times a day. It’s more, “Mamamamamamamamama” than, “Love ya, Mom!” You know? But I’ll take it. Knowing my luck, his first word will be the F-word or SH-word or GD or something, since I’ve totally gotten a potty mouth lately. But, hey, if he wants to say the F-word? I’ll take that, too. I ain’t picky.
Now, pardon me as I greet my SECOND GRADER from the bus and watch him pass out on the floor from the exhaustion of it all.