It’s just been one of those days.
Sleep was elusive last night. According to the sleep diary I have to keep for two weeks, I did sleep for four hours, but they were in sixty to ninety minute increments, broken up but hours of sleeplessness.
The morning routine starts. I get up and get my tea. The younger son shortly follows, as does my husband. There’s a little body with a big belly that needs breakfast. Then another breakfast.
Three hours of therapy. Thankfully they’re in house and I the heaviest piece of machinery I have to operate is the Keurig. ABA is up first. We discuss the boys’ Vineland scores. Nothing like starting a weary day with a double kick to the gut. Then they’re off to work on some school work. At least I get a reprieve from using my brain cells for now.
ABA is up first. We discuss the boys’ Vineland scores. Nothing like starting the day with a double gut kick. At least they’re working on school work today so my brain cells can still rest awhile.
Speech follows. I’ve made copies of the Vineland for her, and to put with the boys’ IEPs that I still need to sign and return. I agree with them, they just got lost in the great paperwork shuffle that is the end of the school year.
Copies made, IEPs signed, envelopes stuffed and sealed. The post office is only open until 2pm for me to mail the paperwork. Who has the energy for that today? I’m barely staying awake writing this. Besides, it’s raining outside. The boys won’t want to walk, and frankly, I’m in no shape to be driving anywhere.
Phone calls made and returned. Notes made before I dial so I don’t forget what I’d like to talk about. It’s a Van Wilder day – “Write that down.”
Lunch. Now. Make the oven magically heat up NOW. My little Veruca in training (despite my best efforts to the contrary) demands pizza. I daydream about the days when I’m the one crapping my pants and he’s wiping my ass and I’m the one demanding pizza. Oh yeah, the Vineland scores. I’m going to go eat some chocolate and wallow now. See you another day.