Happy and Sad at the Same Time


November 16, 2010 by Marj Hatzell

IEP month is winding down and everything is pretty much set and ready to go. Bugaboo’s teacher sent home a draft so we could look it over ahead of time (I love it when they have their act together like this because it saves SO MUCH TIME at the meeting!HOLLAH!) and make sure we agreed with the goals. You know, to be sure they are appropriate and whatnot.

We agree with the goals.

They are appropriate.

It’s just hard to swallow that the goals are appropriate.

All topsy turvy like

See, Bugaboo is working on things like, “request bathroom” and “identify letters in his name” and “increase color recognition from 60%” and “will decrease self-injurous behavior(biting) from 7 to less than 3 bites per day” and it’s just...haaaaaard.

Hard because Bug Boy at this age was reading on a 7th grade level. And capable of doing high school algebra.

Hard because most kids Bugaboo’s age are riding two-wheelers, beating the crap out of each other in their backyards and getting big, fat holes in their pants when they fall on the sidewalk.

Hard because almost-eight-year-olds these days are into soccer/football/tennis/golf/hockey/insert sport here.

The windup

It’s just hard. As well as he is doing and as awesome as his school is? I sometimes wish that we didn’t know all of those amazing, fabulous, wonderful people there because Bugaboo would be going to our neighborhood school and would be friends with my friends’ almost-eight-year-olds and we’d be shuffling to soccer instead of therapy and we’d be buying him video games and books and magnetix and marble runs for Christmas and birthday instead of one, big, fat sensory toy out of a special needs catalog.

And don’t get me started on diapers and potty training and the fact that I’m still steaming carpets on a regular basis because of it.

I know, I know. He’ll develop at HIS pace. He’ll do it in HIS time, not everyone else’s. Don’t compare him to Bug Boy because it’s comparing apples to oranges.  Sports aren’t the most important thing in the world. Etc, etc, blah, blah, BLAH.

It’s still hard.

I love who he is. I love that he is happy. And he’s making progress. And this weekend? One of the easiest ones yet. Tonight? Calm and happy. In bed on time, sleeping much better, cooperative, no biting himself, ate well. Went bowling at a bowling alley for a birthday and he LOVED it and cooperated and listened and didn’t completely lose it or run away a hundred times or run up and down the oily lanes (yes, he’s done that. Ask me how much fun it is to get him back from the pin setters).  He’s doing better. He is better. We are better for it.

But it’s still hard.

I want to hear his voice. I want him to read something to me. I want to hear him sing, off key, just like his Pop Pop and Dad.  I want him to argue with me and stomp his feet and slam his door and tell me I’m the meanest mommy ever (well, he DOES stomp his feet and slam his door. We’re halfway there). I don’t think it’s unrealistic. I’m not wishing for anything. I’m hoping.


Hoping that someday it won’t be so hard.

5 thoughts on “Happy and Sad at the Same Time

  1. She Started It says:

    Hugs to you, girl. I hope all your wishes for him come true.

  2. punkymama says:

    Interesting your mourning of normal comes with the IEP. Hope all your hopes and dreams for him and you come true.

  3. You’ve just expressed everything I’m feeling as I think about my 2 boys as we go for the official eval (finally) for the youngest Thursday. We KNOW what to expect. But hearing it, and seeing it on paper all official like will be a whole other thing.

  4. Stephanie says:

    Sometimes it is really hard. For me, IEPs aren’t what does it. It’s those forms I fill out at the end of the year that helps determine the boys’ funding for the next year. A whole long form that tells me that even Willy, who’s successfully mainstreamed, is still definitely “delayed” compared to his peers.

    It’s hard to see those delays in black and white and not feel…that it’s hard.

  5. RuthWells says:

    It IS hard. It’s okay to admit that. Think about how far he’s come, though — he is capable of so much. You will continue to see growth and progress.

    And he is ROCKING that tie-dye shirt. ; )

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