Because it's been a while since my last "I pink puffy heart my job" post

This week, at work, I had two pretty awesome things happen.

First, I got a sweet email response from a parent of a child with autism. He ended it by saying, "Thank you and your team for giving her the language life that she so deserves." Cue the waterworks. When we started with this little girl, her only language was repeated from Dora. Now? She's doing grade-level work, expresses her emotions relatively appropriately, and has friends. I wish I could take all the credit, but her whole team has lifted this little girl up and changed her (and clearly, her dad's) life. Best. Job. Ever.

Second, I wrote an IEP (which is an educational plan that is written annually) for one of my students. When he started with me this year, boyfriend was out of control. He had meltdowns several times daily, some of which resulting in his entire class being removed from his room. His (first-year! male!) teacher and I have practiced a bit of tough-love teaching with him. After one quarter, I'm ready to reduce his services from 285 minutes weekly to 60. He now stays in his room, does his work, and whines minimally more than the average third grader. I was even able to put him into a speech group. His new speech partner, who was in his class last year, said, "Wow, you are so different than last year." My student beamed with pride. I fought back tears.

It's no secret that I love my job. I love when first graders tell me that I smell like "a muffin...a yummy, yummy muffin." I adore when kindergarteners accidentally call me "mommy," then grin. I love when second graders tell me unabashedly that they love me. I love love love seeing kids make progress, and watching their quality of life change.

It all makes the crap parts of the job worth it. You know, like when I get an angry phone call from a kindergartener's parent (thankfully, not directed at me this time) who, in ten minutes said "bitch," "bullshit," "retarded," the f-word, and...wait for it...the c-word. It takes a lot to offend me. The c-word will do it.

So I make a choice to focus on the first grader who told his mom that I'm helping him learn to feel better when he's angry and the fourth grader who finally makes no mistakes on that stubborn r-sound after years of therapy.

Although, if I have to hear the c-word again this semester, I might have to take a personal day.

The Epitome of Cuteness

If I told you that being a working mom is easy, I'd be a big fat liar. If I told you that I don't feel stretched paper thin more days than not, I'd be full of it.

If I told you that I wished I could quit my job, though, I'd also be less than truthful. For once a day, at the very least, I have one of those moments where I am absolutely certain that I'm exactly where I belong. Whether I'm celebrating a breakthrough moment with a student or unexpectedly feeling little arms wrapped around my waist or giggling with my coworkers over lunch, I know that I am, quite simply, living out my calling.

With that being said, though, I miss my boys fiercely during the day. When the afternoon announcements begin, I actually get butterflies in my stomach, knowing that it's almost time to go pick them up from their "school."

I am also certain that my boys are in the best place possible for them, and for our family. Yesterday, the scene I was greeted with when I picked up G solidified this belief.

Because seriously...what is cuter than a baby....

sitting in a teeny tiny chair.......

at a teeny-tiny table....

wearing a teeny-tiny smock.....

repeating after his teachers, "tap, tap, tap," while he paints?

Absolutely nothing.

I heart hellions.

I've talked about my job a lot...about the kinds of kids with whom I work. One thing I haven't talked a lot about is the fact that I love working with kids with behavior problems. Yep, you read that right. Those you-know-what-disturbers? Yeah, those. I don't even know why this is the case, but they have a special place in my heart.

Although it's not the typical thing for speech-language pathologists to do, and most people would call it behavior therapy, I still consider it under the umbrella of language therapy. These kids rarely use language in a socially appropriate way, so technically, I'm teaching them to use appropriate pragmatic (social) language. Plus, I'm usually the only one that is begging to work with these kids, so they are given to me with no argument.

I truly believe that no kids are bad at heart. Typically, they've had a terrible upbringing or poor parenting, although of course there are exceptions to every rule. I love breaking through a tough exterior to see a kid's soft side; to watch them succeed. When that happens, the people in their world see them differently, and more importantly, they have a whole new outlook on themselves.

I love the challenge of these kids. Today alone, I got called a bitch by two different students, was kicked in the shins, slapped, pulled, and was forced to listen to an ungodly amount of whining/crying/screaming.

But...I made a huge breakthrough with one student, who, after initially melting down over an assignment, proudly paraded his completed worksheet (nothing short of a miracle) around the school, getting praise, hugs, and pencils. His classroom teacher backed me up and the two of us kept exchanging grins and thumbs-up as this kid did more and more work. Like something out of an After-School Special, we high-fived at the end of the day.

When these kids make progress, it's huge, to say the least. I've had parents tell me at annual meetings that their kids have learned to express their feelings from me and it's affected their daily lives.

Not every story has a happy ending. The first troublemaker with whom I worked and loved is sadly, now in prison. I'll never forget hearing the story of his demise (as I drove down the freeway, no less) and being stricken with grief and nausea, calling the news station to verify that it was, indeed, my former student.

There have been plenty of kids that I tried really hard to help and they either didn't want to be helped or poor parenting nullified my attempts.

But today I was given a gift. A story that was inspiration to keep on keepin' on with these kids. She came running up to me, bursting with excitement to recount her previous evening.

"I went to the store last night, and a nice young man waited on me. We were just chit-chatting and it came up that I worked here. He said, 'Oh, then you probably don't know my favorite teacher from middle school. And Gina, it was YOU! He said, 'She was the only teacher who ever really understood me. I took meds that made me tired and she let me rest when I needed it and pushed me when I needed that. ' He said no matter what, you'll always be his favorite teacher and you really helped him and made a difference in his life."

When she told me his name, my eyes filled with tears and goosebumps popped up on my arms. This kid was a thorn in my side at the middle school, with a tough parent to boot. I did love him, but I was sure he hated me, or at the very least, completely forgot about me once he left the middle school where I used to work.

She went on to say that he was so appropriate and sweet and that they had a great conversation. He said those amazing things AND used great pragmatic language?

Boom. Career....made.

Thankful Thursdays: The "Diamonds in the Rough" Edition

Once, a therapist told me that the time that it's the most crucial to take a five-minute break is when you don't feel like you have five minutes to spare. That's stuck with me, years (and admittedly, several therapists) later. I am feeling the same way about Thankful Thursdays. When you're at the end of the rope and your head is spinning? Maybe it's time to focus on what we're grateful for. Can't hurt, right?

I'm thankful for sweet blog friends. You all never disappoint when you sense I need to hear from you. You all came through on my last post and knowing that you think I'm a good mom and that you feed your kids hot dogs too and simply that you've all been there too...you all put me back together. So thank you.

I'm thankful for the Sharpie company. Because those Sharpie pens, pencils, and markers that I bought the other day on my lunch break? They totally helped. Not gonna lie.

I'm thankful for my amazing coworkers. In three days, I've seen adults come together to solve problems regarding scheduling nightmares, temper-tantrum throwing students (yes, plural), and supply shortages. I had my moments last year with my job but I have fallen in love with it all over again and there's no place I'd rather be.

I'm thankful for a phenomenal school where I send my boys. Honest to goodness, I know that it's the best place for them. And if you think the very best place is at home with me, don't bother commenting to tell me that because you are so very wrong. We'll save the reasons for another day. But G is making strides on transitioning with fewer tears and they are so accommodating with my boys' dietary needs. Between socialization and pre-academics, what they are learning there is worth every penny we pay. Plus, it's super fun to get to see G shaking a maraca every day during music time when I pick him up.

I'm thankful for the fact that L makes me so proud that all the tough mama moments are worth it. Today, when I picked him up from school, his preschool teacher met me at the door, beaming with pride. She told me that L showed extraordinary kindness to a friend who was having a tough time transitioning to his first day of preschool. And nothing...not straight A's or a winning touchdown or the lead in the school play will ever make me prouder than a report that my son showed compassion to someone in need.

I'm thankful for jeans days and dark chocolate and coffee and Converse and perfectly ripe bananas and decent gluten-free bread and Dentyne gum and comfortable t-shirt bras. Because they all helped me get through today.

Me neither.

Do you ever have a really overwhelming day at work when every time you think you have the scheduling logistics figured out, someone tells you that you have to change it? So you are constantly trying to get your disorganized attention-deficit self organized while your head is spinning over scheduling changes, and in the meantime your to-do list just keeps growing and growing and growing and you are wondering how on earth you are going to keep it together since you have the biggest caseload you've ever had?

No? Me neither.

Do you ever get so stir-crazy from looking at scheduling conflicts and data sheets and numbers and names that you decide to go to Wal*Mart during your lunch break so that you can buy a pretty binder and a bunch of Sharpie pens with your money from the PTO to make yourself feel better?

No? Me neither.

Do you ever find yourself a little jealous of your husband, who gets to stay late at work every single night? Because just once you'd like to stay a little late to get caught up and have him rush out to get the kids from school and come home to a messy house and have to make dinner and pack lunches for tomorrow and bathe the boys?

No? Me neither.

Do you ever pick up your toddler and have to grit your teeth when his teacher says that the cough he's had for two weeks is now worse because you knew that was coming? And because he's fever-free, eating, sleeping, and playing fine, realize that you'd better take gluten out of your diet in addition to dairy because you're afraid he might have the same allergies as his brother? Have you ever worried about the fact that keeping three people in one house on a gluten-free, casein-free diet is going to be expensive and a bit tricky?

No? Me neither.

Do you ever find the overwhelming sensation to cry and ask God, aloud, to come near, in the middle of your kitchen when you can't figure out what to make for dinner? And have you ever given up and made hot dogs, taking solace in the fact that at least they are hormone, antibiotic, and nitrate-free hot dogs? And when you looked at your preschooler's plate of said hot dogs, gluten-free pretzels, organic strawberries, and vitamins, have you ever told yourself that meal could be much worse, even though you really know it should be much better?

No? Me neither.

Have you ever not had time to blog but you know that it's cheaper than therapy so you go ahead and write a post anyway? Have you ever totally put yourself out there on your blog even though you know some people are going to realize just how crazy you are? Have you ever wanted to apologize to your blog friends for publishing a psychotic post and failing to comment on their blogs, all in the same day?

No? Me neither.

It's time again for my annual academically-based rant

Today, I was forced to do something that infuriated me to the point that when I was finished, I was literally gritting my teeth and a bit shaky.

(For the record, when I say literally, I mean it. Overuse of that word is a pet peeve but that's another post for another day. Sorry. I had to get that out. Back to the story.)

Anyone want to guess what it was that I did?

Was I stuck in a room with an ultra right-wing conservative and forced to listen to them ramble about politics?

Worse.

Was I forced to take recyclable materials to the town dump?

Worse.

Did I have to cut down a tree?

Worse.

I had to administer the first session of our annual standardized state assessments to a student. Because of the effing ridiculous    completely stupid law, I wasn't allowed to read it to him. I wasn't even allowed to read the directions to him. Heck, I wasn't even allowed to paraphrase anything.

The student?

Has autism.

Reads on a first grade level.

Has severe language weaknesses due to his autism.

He's in fourth grade, so he has to take the fourth grade test. He isn't eligible for alternative assessments, because he's quite good at math. Because he's good at math and can participate in the math portion, he has to participate in the fourth grade communication arts portion as well. *insert sarcasm font* That makes all the sense in the world, right? *end sarcasm font*

Let me remind you that I cannot read it to him, besides one word per sentence. All I can really say is, "Do your best."

I said "Do your best" about 63 times in the 45 minute period that I tested him.

So this student read attempted to read, God bless him, a fourth grade-level passage, which was followed by questions written on a fourth-grade level. Oh, and we can't forget the directions written on a fourth grade level.  Boyfriend struggled with words like "help," and "read," and was inundated with words like "information," and "passage."

You can imagine how well he did on the test. Not that I looked at his answers, because I'm also not supposed to look at the test. Well, unless I am reading the one word per sentence. But even then, I'm supposed to avert my eyes from the rest of the test booklet.

Folks, I'm not kidding. Not even exaggerating.

The powers that be oh-so-generously granted me the ability to scribe his written answers. However, I can't provide any capitalization or punctuation unless he explicitly tells me to do so. You can imagine the answers I wrote as he dictated.

The most maddening part of all? Our district's funding is in part, based on the students' performance on these tests. Our teachers are judged by how well our students do, on tests that are not indicative of our childrens' ability.

To put it quite eloquently, it's complete and utter bullshit.

I don't get to provide services for a lot of my students this week because of the test. The energy in the building is tense. Teachers are aggravated. Kids are stressed. Certain speech-language pathologists are gritting their teeth.

Literally.

Thank God for the majority of the stories that I get to tell about my job. The communication breakthroughs. The heartwarming connections. The sunshiney-rainbow moments. Because without them, this one week a year could be enough to drive me to a different career.

I do love my job. I do love my job. I do love my job. I do love my job. I do love my job. I do love...

We do not remember days; we remember moments. -C. Pavese

There's something about working in an elementary school. It's rainbows and butterflies and unicorns.

Not every day, mind you.

God knows there are days that I want to hide under my desk and eat sickening amounts of dark chocolate. But those days are few and far between and often coincide with full moons or weather changes.

The great thing is that the majority of teachers with whom I work love their jobs as much as I do. When we are all feeling positive, it's pretty darn magical.

Today was one of those times.

Last year, I used to work closely with a teacher, Miss K, who is one of the funniest human beings on the planet. A student who gets a lot of my attention was in her class so I spent a lot of time with Miss K. I taught Miss K how to write social stories and how to model the language that she wanted my student to use. Miss K was a fabulous teacher and student.

Today, she bounced up to me with palpable excitement.

"Guess what! Guess what! I have a student with really bad anxiety and I tried writing a social story for him and it worked! He comes to school with no problems now! And I have another little girl who just kept getting up and walking around my room...and remember how you taught me to talk to Cara (not her real name)? Well, that's how I talk to this little girl, too, and now she sits and listens!"

Miss K was almost bursting out of her skin. Her smile was highly contagious. She was actually bouncing on her toes and clapping her hands as she relayed the successes of herself and her first graders.

I felt goosebumps pop up on my arms.

You see, as much as I love the rainbows, unicorns, and butterflies of my school, there are days that I feel like I don't know what I'm doing. There are days that I feel like I'm not good enough. There are days that I feel like my kids deserve someone better than myself.

And then I have a moment like this one with Miss K.

There is absolutely nothing like having someone tell you that you made a difference in their world and in children's lives.

I am so lucky to know that first hand.

Thankful Thursday-Gratitude in spite of crabbiness

I'm not gonna lie. I'm grumpy today. I'm emotional. I'm uncomfortable.

But in hopes of "turning this frown upside down," as my coworker just instructed me to do, I am going to refocus here.

I am thankful that I have a job that I adore. Because, really...if I had to go to a job that I hated, or even just sort-of liked, I'd be miserable. I'd actually cry before coming to work every day instead of just being close to tears as I was this morning. Each student I see makes me smile. Every hug and belly pat I get reminds me that I am working in a place that is as close to a fairy-land as I can get. (Yes, I really feel that way...starting your career in a middle school makes an elementary school appear to be filled with sunshine and rainbows. Trust me on this one.)

I am thankful for my coworkers who are by far, the best staff in the world. They compliment me even when I am as big as a house, let me vent, and perhaps most importantly, supply me with candy. Yesterday, my work bestie brought me Lemonade Mike and Ike's and this morning another coworker insisted I go get a handful of her stash of Swedish Fish out of her desk when she saw me looking less than happy to be here.

I am thankful for blogs like this and this that put things into perspective for me. When I am complaining and only thinking about myself and my back pain and the contractions that keep teasing me (I had two that were three minutes apart last night!) , I tend to have a hard time staying positive. My husband has been telling me lately that when I'm pregnant, sometimes my "be positive...everything's gonna be fine" mentality goes straight out the window.

I am thankful that even though I haven't gone into labor yet, I was progressing as of Monday. And the fact that I'm dilated as much as I am means that I can be induced without Pitocin next week. My doctor and I made a compromise that as long as I'm dilated, he'll simply break my water rather than starting that lovely Pit.

I am thankful that my back feels better than it did yesterday. I seriously thought it might break in half by the time I got home yesterday.

I am thankful for my new discovery of sweet iced tea at my favorite gas station. I've been craving it lately and I get a 32 ounce tea with crushed ice for 69 cents. And it's on my way to work. And although I've been so good about only drinking caffeine every other day at most, I have fallen off the wagon since I have started working full-time. (All you worriers...I promise I put ice in until it overflows my cup first, so I don't drink anywhere near 32 ounces of that evil caffeine. Feel better?)

I am thankful to feel this little man rocking and rolling like the wild man that I am convinced he is. I love seeing a knee go across my belly and marveling at the miracle that I get to experience every single day. As much as I'm ready to meet him, there is something truly awe-inspiring about watching his movements and wondering who he is going to look like. Will he have eyes like B and L? Will he have my nose (I hope not)? Will he make his entrance into the world as active and alert as L?

Now when I have those every-seven-minute contractions that go on for 35 minutes and then just stop....or when the hundredth coworker says, "Oh, you are still here?" I'll re-read this. Just remind me to do so before the hormonally-induced waterworks start...okay?

Namaste!

A little hormone-induced paranoia for your reading pleasure

When I found out I was pregnant with this new little man, I couldn't believe that I'd be 37 weeks pregnant on the first day of school. Not exactly the best possible due date for a public school employee, but obviously I was so giddy that I was pregnant, I figured it'd all work out.

And it will.

BUT.

I am 37 weeks pregnant and the first day of school is Monday.

Usually, the first week of school is somewhat laid-back. We speech pathologists make contact with our students. We do basic language samples; see how our kids' speech sounds have regressed over the summer; take some baseline data.

Between those contacts, we finalize the schedule that we've put a ridiculous number of hours into creating. We make our sticker charts. We throw random crap into our treasure chests. We get our data books organized. We eat chocolate when we get overwhelmed. We create calendars for the school year. We start to schedule meetings. We are busy, but it goes at a slower pace and there is typically plenty of time to get the last few things done.

Yeah...not this year.

Last night, I brought home an obnoxious amount of work. I could go into labor at any time, and I needed to make sure that at any given second, things are ready for my substitute. Not only did I create a binder of data sheets, I put post-its on every. single. sheet. I gave information on each of them and then added suggestions of therapy activities for each one. I made sticker charts. (And I bounced on an exercise ball while doing it, which did NOT put me into labor. Sigh.)

I've been a sub. And it sucks a big one when you walk into a classroom and have no clue what the heck you are supposed to do.

Plus, I love my job. I want it done right. I want my kids to be taken care of. I want good therapies to be done.

BUT.

Can I confess something?

I don't want it done as well as what I do.

Oh man, I am a bad, bad person.

My biggest fear is that my sub is going to rock my entire staff's socks off. What if they like her better than me? What if they don't want me to come back? What if my kids don't miss me???

I have a fantastic plan set up for my maternity leave. After I have the baby (hopefully this weekend...hey, one can hope), I will be out for eight weeks full days. Then the next eight weeks, I'll go in from 12:15-3:45 each day. That will allow me to return full-time, but not until after Christmas break. Score...right?

But that also gives my sub (who is supposed to be awesome) ample time to bond with my friends...my principals...my kids...and steal their love away. Time to prove that she's a better speech-language pathologist than me.

I am ridiculous. Plain and simple. I know. Paranoid. Crazy.

But I know, that while I am sitting at home, rocking my baby, smelling his sweet baby smell and kissing his sweet baby cheeks, I will miss my "other kids" a little. I don't want to give up my time at home. Not even a little. But I love my job so much that it might be hard to be away.

Then again, there's a good chance that I'll be so sleep deprived that I won't even know what time or day it is, and I'll be saying, "Job? What job?"

Yeah...that's probably a better prediction.

But I still hope my sub leaves just a little to be desired. Just sayin'.

Friday Fragments

I am having 3rd trimester anxiety. Not about the baby coming...just a too-busy mind and a need to vent. This post is boring and simply a way to get some things out of my brain so that with any luck, I can get back to sleep. Kudos to you if you even skim it.

This is my second rough night this week. Monday night was absolutely terrible...between big painful contractions that woke me up, little man getting hiccups three times between 10 pm and 6 am, L deciding to sneak into our bed, and seven trips to the bathroom, I was almost in tears. So I am handling tonight better. I was up at 2:30 am with racing thoughts and a growling stomach. Fruit snacks and The Real World cured that. Now I'm up at 4:40 am with an allergy attack (even after my 10 pm Zyrtec) and a growling stomach. Here's hoping a banana and a blog post works.

It occurred to me that my doc has been spouting percentages at me every time he examines me. On Wednesday, he estimated 70%...and out of nowhere yesterday, I realized that he must be talking about effacement, right? So something is happening. I'll be 36 weeks on Saturday and I am planning on starting to try all the natural induction methods this week. Sex, spicy food, walking...can't hurt. I am not even considering castor oil until I get really desperate, though. Just sayin.

My summer is just about over. I'm going to my classroom on Monday to work on it and my schedule. Meetings start on Thursday and Friday. This summer has been extremely satisfying. I think L and I have done something fun every single day except for maybe two days, and I am so proud of that. And yes, the library and his grandparents' house counts as fun. He's been asking to go back to school, and shockingly, I'm ready for him to go.

Speaking of L, he's gone through such a language explosion lately. His two new words are "certainly" and "ridiculous" and he uses them in perfect context, although "ridiculous" may not always be behaviorally appropriate. He continues to be the Master Negotiator, starting pleas with "Mommy, here's da feeng..." He is such a social butterfly...he makes friends of all ages everywhere we go by flashing his smile and starting conversations about our upcoming plans or his girlfriend, Hermione.

L's diet is getting easier and easier, too. He doesn't get upset if I buy something at the grocery store or he sees someone eating something that he can't have. He just asks, "Will that make me itchy?" If I answer yes, he either says he doesn't want it or simply moves on. I find it amazing. The soy milk seemed to upset his stomach, and the rice and almond milks are disgustingly watery and lacking calcium, so I ordered him some calcium chewables this week. I am praying he'll tolerate them. I swear his behavior has improved in leaps and bounds every week since we started his diet, and he hasn't needed allergy or asthma medicine since. Again...amazing.

The nursery still isn't done. I only have two bottles. I have no diapers. I'd like to devote Sunday to getting-ready-for-baby day. That probably all depends on if I am up at 5:01 am Sunday morning blogging while I sneeze, stuff my face, and watch my belly move with a certain someone's hiccups, though...

Happy Friday! Enjoy your weekends!

They will find each other

Last year, I worked with a fifth grade boy with Asperger Syndrome, which is a high-functioning form of Autism. Kids with Asperger Syndrome are quirky. To be totally honest, they are often sort of stereotypical nerds. Just like any other kids, some are more irritating than others. This fifth-grader, who I'll call Sam, was really not very irritating at all. He was super sweet and just lacked the ability to connect with his peers.

His mom and I became very close, and at his yearly meeting, she lamented that although she was pleased with his social language progress he'd made that year, she was distraught by the fact that he didn't have any friends. Poor Sam had never been invited to a birthday party or spent the night at a friend's house.

I told his mom what I knew to be true...that this would change in middle school. Once they get to sixth grade, there are so many more students, and therefore more kids like them.

"They will find each other," I promised his mom. I don't know how many times I told her those five words, but I said it, and meant it.

I explained how when I worked in the middle school, I'd walk through the cafeteria to get my lunch and smile at the quirky boys who all sat together at a table, discussing what they watched on the History Channel the night before.

They were my favorite table of kids. They were magnetically attracted to each other and in their nerdy way, as cute as can be. While they didn't always have the social skills to initiate a conversation with me, they didn't cringe if I sat down to have a quick conversation with them. Trust me when I say they weren't worried about a teacher sitting with them making them look less cool.

"They will find each other," I'd tell his mom every time I saw her. "You'll have a bunch of quirky boys at your house next year...I promise."

She'd explain that she didn't believe me, but she'd keep hoping and praying that I was right.

In November of this year, I saw Sam and his mom at a Veteran's Day assembly. Sam's mom sent him over to me, and he gave me an awkward hug.

"Tell her," Sam's mom urged.

"Oh," Sam shyly smiled. "My mom wants me to tell you that I had two friends spend the night last weekend."

Sam's mom hugged me, and whispered in my ear, "You were right!"

I saw Sam and his mom from time to time this school year, and every time, one of them would joyfully describe the latest social gathering that Sam had recently participated in with his friends.

Yesterday was the last day of school. I saw Sam ambling down the hall and I ran to embrace him.

"This is from my mom," he said, and held out an envelope.

I opened it to find a picture of five preteen boys, standing at the edge of our local lake, sun-kissed and soaking wet, with their arms around each other. Sam was in the middle of the group.

Sam's mom had included a caption: "THEY WILL FIND EACH OTHER."

Thankful Thursdays...it's all about instinct.

Today I am thankful that yesterday, I followed my gut.

L has been stuttering...a lot. This has been going on for about three months. Stuttering is very normal for kids age 2-5, but his was quickly getting worse. Not only was it more consistent, but they type of stuttering was worsening. I'd go into details, but it probably wouldn't make sense to most of you. I know when I get into all my speech path lingo, I lose all but about 3 of my readers, so just trust me that it was getting worse.

B and I modeled fluent speech for him and asked him to mimic our models. It seemed to help, minimally. I know this will come as a big shock to you, but I was getting neurotic and worried about L. I know...me...panic? Weird. Ahem.

I spoke to some of my speech therapy colleagues, who gave me the exact same advice I'd give anyone else....that it was developmentally normal; not to bring attention to it unless it bothered him or he showed struggle behaviors; just to keep an eye on it for about six more months.

So I did. I totally followed their advice.

For about 24 hours.

And then, I couldn't take it anymore. We were in the car coming home from gymnastics, and L was asking me what we were going to eat for dinner.

"Wwwwwwwwwwwhat are we going to have for dinner?" he said, very loudly, from the backseat.

It occurred to me that he was so much more disfluent when he was loud, which for L, is more often than not. (He is SO my kid.) It felt like he really was struggling when he stuttered, and this time was no exception.

I asked him to ask me the same question, but in a quiet voice, and he did. And he didn't drag out the first sound. Inside, I was thrilled, not only that he didn't stutter, but also that he spoke more quietly. He is so loud that I worry about him developing nodules on his vocal folds. I've never been able to figure out how to quiet him down, however.

"Wow," I remarked, matter-of-factly. "It's a lot easier to talk when you are a little quieter, huh?"

"Yeah, it is," L replied.

I immediately changed the subject, and didn't bring it up again.

We were finishing dinner when L blurted, extremely loudly again, "Wwwwww....www...."

And then he stopped.

Significantly more quietly and slowly, he asked, "Will you help me get down, Mommy?"

Our eyes met and I grinned, a big, cheesy, speech-language pathologist/mommy grin.

"L!" I cried. "You fixed your talking all by yourself! Didn't that sound so good?"

"Yeah!!!" L responded, happily.

All night last night, he'd catch himself starting to stutter and stop, take a deep breath, and say it again, more quietly, more slowly, and usually, more fluently.

Speech therapy breakthroughs with my students are huge. I love my job, so seeing my work make a difference thrills me beyond belief. I never thought it could get better...until I had a breakthrough with my own son. Combining my two passions was priceless.

Thankful Thursday, indeed.

Namaste!

Two for Tuesday

Yesterday I had two awesome encounters regarding my belly at work. You never know what kids might say about a big ole pregnant belly, and yesterday was no exception.

I entered a special education classroom to talk to a teacher. One of my fifth-grade students who has high-functioning autism was working in there. He was obviously distracted by my belly. I finally said, "It's getting big, isn't it?"

I think he was waiting for his cue, which he immediately took.

"Yep, and I know how babies are made. First, the man touches the woman, and then his sperm comes out..."

I took that as my cue to leave and walked right out, embarrassed. (Apparently, after I left, he explained that he wasn't old enough yet, so even if he touched girls now, he couldn't get them pregnant. Whew.)

A couple of hours later, I saw an adorable, itty bitty kindergarten student in the nurse's office. I stopped to say hi to them, and he gazed at my belly, wide-eyed.

"I have a big belly, huh?" I asked.

He just nodded, still staring.

"You think I ate too much lunch?" I teased him.

"Did you?" he asked, incredulous.

"I did," I responded, having way too much fun with this kiddo. "I had lots and lots of food."

"Whoa," he said, amazed. "You have a really fat belly."

"What do you think is really in there?" I asked him.

"A...baby?"

"Yep. I'm having a baby in a few months."

His response? A high five, and a giant grin.

Cutest.Thing.Ever.

Gratitude

Remember yesterday when I complained about being overwhelmed? (Or NOT overwhelmed, because I do NOT get stressed out?)

Yeah, I think God laughed at that post yesterday.

I started my day with a meeting that I had no clue about until less than 24 hours prior. Thank goodness for my wonderful coworker, who told me about it with enough notice so that I could prepare the documents.

I spent the morning running between seeing students, making phone calls, answering e-mails, and working on all my and my absent coworker's paperwork. At lunch, I told that wonderful coworker that I knew I was stressed out because my head was actually feeling funny.

Perhaps it was an omen of things to come.

Not fifteen minutes later, I sat down with two of my students, both of whom are in wheelchairs. We were preparing to practice for our talent show act (more on that in a future post). Suddenly, one of my little boys started coughing. And coughing. And coughing.

I realized that he couldn't catch his breath when he started turning red.

He has multiple disabilities and his own nurse, who of course, was at lunch. I sat him up in his chair, which didn't help a bit. In fact, his color had started to change further around his mouth.

Typically, I am alone with these two boys, but thankfully, another teacher aide and her student were in the room. I looked at her and told her that he couldn't breathe. She buzzed the office. I realized that this kiddo needed serious help. He has a tracheotomy and is too large for one person to move out of his chair, and it hit me that I couldn't even begin CPR.

I told the aide we needed to run him to the nurse, and she grabbed the chair (being the non-preggo, and all) and raced him down the hall.

Shaking, I continued language therapy with the other two students.

Luckily, by the time the EMT's arrived, the student had coughed up the mucous plug that was causing him to stop breathing.

When I heard that, I calmed down. I was supposed to see another student, but I had to meet with another special education teacher in order to figure out a better plan so that this student always has a nurse with him. (That was supposed to already be in place, but whatever.)

Twenty minutes later, I went to see my other student in her classroom. I enjoyed thirty drama-free minutes with her, and then checked my mailbox on the way back to my classroom.

There was a letter from our Central Office stating that my teaching license was about to expire.

Awesome.

Luckily, I just had to fill out some (more) paperwork and send a $35 check to Central Office, but seeing that almost put me over the edge, before I realized it was such a quick fix.

I spent the rest of my day working on paperwork and finally gave in and read a few blogs for the last ten minutes of my day when I realized that I literally needed a break.

Driving home, I got choked up as my day came rushing back to me.

And then I realized that I really am lucky. My blessings are so many.

My job could always be this stressful. I typically have half the paperwork that I do, and for that, I am grateful.

I have amazing supportive coworkers who are willing to listen to me anytime I become overwhelmed, and for that, I am grateful.

I have a healthy child, who (knock on wood) has minimal medical issues that are easily controlled, and for that, I am grateful.

I have a blog, on which I can vent, and readers who give me virtual hugs to support me, and for that, I am grateful.

I have a baby in my womb, who, judging from his movement, is extraordinarily strong and energetic, and for that, I am grateful.

I work at an elementary school, which means I can always find some kind of chocolatey baked goods to help reduce my stress level, and for that, I am grateful.

I have 17 more days until I get to enjoy a three-month vacation, and for that, I am grateful.

Sometimes it's hard to see the forest for the trees, but today, I took a step back and breathed in my life. It's pretty amazing. And for that, I am grateful.

26 days...but who's counting?

If you follow me on Twitter, you know that B got a new job! Hooray! It's a lateral move, but it will prepare him to move up in his company. He was told it would take one week to get an answer, but he actually didn't hear anything for two and a half weeks. Why? Because the company had to wait until all of the positions are filled, and apparently, they didn't want him to get short-timer's syndrome once he knew that his days in his current position were numbered.

When I explained that to one of my BFF's and favorite coworker Jen (who desperately needs a blog...hint, hint, Jen), she remarked that to a degree, short-timer's syndrome is involuntary. I wholeheartedly agree. I am a victim of involuntary short-timer's syndrome. And I didn't even realize it until she pointed it out the other day.

Last week, one of my favorite students walked into my room for his therapy session and I sighed and rolled my eyes. Jen and my other coworkers giggled and she said that my relationship with him is so interesting...I love him but don't want to work with him. This kiddo gets seven speech and language sessions a week (that's a lot) and has made little to no progress this year. I didn't work with him in years past, but he didn't make progress in those years, either. And it's next to impossible to work with him, knowing there are less than 30 days left in the school year.

And that makes me feel beyond guilty.

I want to be the speech-language pathologist who saves every last kid. I do. I want to be the superhero SLP. But when you have kids who you feel like you need a cape and actual superpowers to help them make progress, come April, it's so hard.

I've run out of creative ideas.

I've run out of beliefs that miracles might just happen with these kids.

I've run out of energy.

I feel terrible admitting those things, but they are true.

Don't get me wrong....I still love my job.

One of my speech groups is making huge gains. When the second-grader in the group nails her "r" sound, I get a little enthusiasm burst.

Another one of my little girls with autism is making major social progress. When she flags me down in the cafeteria to say hello, or her friends cheer her on to cross the monkey bars, my heart is full.

And my lowest-functioning kids, in wheelchairs, who are completely non-verbal, man oh man, they are my babies. This week, we are reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Every day during our group time, we cut open the fruit that the caterpillar ate that day. The kids touch it and smell it, and then we use the fruit as a stamp to paint on a giant paper caterpillar. I leave that group every single day counting my blessings and knowing I am doing what I can for those kids.

But I have to admit....I don't have a clue what to do next week. I feel like my creative juices have run dry.

I'm ready for a break.

I'm ready to recharge my batteries this summer.

I'm ready for this summer with L: the library reading program, running through the sprinkler, eating picnic lunches, introducing him to the ice cream man, catching fireflies.

This summer will be the last one with him as my only child, and that's absolutely bittersweet.

So forgive me for wanting the rest of the school year to hurry up. Summer is calling.

The R-Word

Last night, I read this post by Jen, over at Diagnosis:Urine. If you don't follow Jen, you should. That is, if you can take posts that tell it like it is and make you feel totally relieved that you aren't the only mommy in the world that just wants five minutes by yourself to breathe sometimes. Plus, she has the best, driest sense of humor in the world. Really. The whole world.

Anyhoo.

After reading her post about what I refer to as the "r-word," I sent her a tweet because for some reason, I can never respond to her posts. She asked me if I'd consider blogging about the subject.

To be totally honest, I'm shocked that I haven't posted about it up to this point. If you know me in real life, and have uttered "retarded," "retard," or any other variation of the word around me, you've seen me literally cringe. It takes a lot to offend me, but if you bust out the r-word around me, you'll succeed.

My friends still say it from time to time but usually immediately apologize profusely when they say it. One of B's friends even made an "r-bomb jar" in his house, and every time he said the word, he paid a quarter to the jar. That's how much I hate it.

I've had lots of people argue their reasoning for thinking the r-word shouldn't offend me. They aren't even talking about someone who is retarded, it's just a figure of speech, it has nothing to do with people with disabilities. I've heard it all.

Here's the deal. I work with lots of kids who are mentally retarded. And the r-word has such a negative connotation now that simply saying it to describe my students who are actually retarded can be uncomfortable. In fact, the educational term has changed to 'intellectually disabled,' at least in the state of Missouri.

However, that doesn't change the fact that my students are retarded. When people say, "That's so retarded," or "You're such a retard," they are using the term as a huge insult. They are usually describing something or someone that they consider stupid.

Guess what. My kids who are retarded really aren't stupid. They are slower learners, but they aren't stupid.

One little girl on my caseload who is retarded is so darn manipulative that I find myself trying to outwit her. Not stupid.

Another little boy to whom I provide language therapy is labeled as retarded but has excellent receptive language skills, and his motoric and health abilities slow his learning and response time. Again...not stupid.

I could go on and on.

It bothers me that people are using the word "retarded" as a synonym for "stupid" or "ridiculous" and it just does not make sense. People insult each other by using the word that explains why my kids have to work so hard just to learn. That seems hateful to me. There are a gazillion words to use. Why pick the one that brings pain to parents and educators of children who really are retarded...not to mention the children themselves?

So...will you do me a favor and delete that word from your vocabulary, unless you are referring to a person who is actually mentally retarded?

My sweet (not stupid) kids and I would appreciate it.

Hopping on the brutally honest blog train

It seems like almost all of the bloggers I stalk follow have something in common this week...being super, ultra personal and up-front about their emotions. Today's been rough for me, emotionally, and I think I am going to join the bloggy movement.

Nothing's really that bad. I honestly just feel overwhelmed today. Maybe it's just hormones. Maybe it's just one of those days.

For instance, I took L to school today for the first time since Monday, and when I picked him up, he was on the toilet with diarrhea. He's now running a fever. I guess my mommy instinct was a bit off this week. Either that or I was in denial that he wasn't actually sick, and for once, my positive visualization just plain didn't work.

So I am petrified that I am going to get the sporadic puking virus. Not only am I worried about the baby, but also about missing more work. I've been out of sick days for months now. Every time I have to leave, even for part of the day, I feel extraordinary guilt. I feel like my students deserve consistency. For that matter, my coworkers do too.

If I have missed this much work this year, what on earth will I do next year when I have two kids??? Granted, L's asthma appears to be under control, and I am very hopeful that therefore, he'll be healthier next year. It will also help that he's past his first year in day care. I get that. I do. But how am I going to do it? I'm flat-out scared.

I even contacted our district office this week to inquire about 4-day-a-week positions that could be available for next year. The First Steps company for whom I used to work is constantly offering me jobs, and part of me is so tempted to go back to that flexibility. I told my district that, and they basically told me to take it if I felt so inclined. Nice. Then, a district administrator took it upon herself to tell my special ed supervisor and both principals that I was considering leaving.

Luckily, they weren't angry or offended. In fact, two of them came to me separately and pleaded a case for me not to leave. They talked retirement, my great review, and reminded me that I love my job. My favorite coworker called me at home and helped talk me off the ledge too. I know it'd be stupid to leave a job that I adore. But I'm scared. To death.

It will be hard enough with a healthy baby. But what if my baby isn't healthy? I took a student and his mom to my college today for an evaluation, and on the bus ride there, she told me her heartwrenching story about her child with multiple disabilities. She didn't know until well after he was born that anything was wrong with him. I am desperate for a healthy baby, but I could certainly cope with having a baby with a disability. However, there's no way I could do my job in that situation.

Yep. I'm just scared. I'm just doing what I know I am not supposed to do. I'm failing to do what I tell my friends, my family, my husband, my blogfriends to do... think positively. I am just feeling like I have an awful lot of balls in the air and I am so afraid that if I blink, they'll all come tumbling down.

I'll move on. I needed to vent. To get it out. And for that, I am grateful that you are here to "listen." What would I do without the blogosphere?

Namaste, friends.

Thankful Thursdays

A few hours ago, I was so stressed out and frustrated that I wasn't feeling overly thankful. However, I've learned that those are the times that a gratitude list is crucial. And lucky for me, it's Thankful Thursday! Funny how that works out, isn't it?

* I am thankful to have a job I love that gives me warm fuzzies on a regular basis. I held an annual meeting for one of my students today that almost had me in (very happy) tears. This little girl has made more progress in a year than anyone in my career. Her dad said during the meeting that at last year's meeting, he said that all he wanted was for his daughter to emote. I remember at that meeting thinking that I didn't think it was possible for that to happen in a year, considering she wasn't using full sentences at the time. His next sentence today was that she's reached that goal. And the best part? I see her do it every day, in full sentences, no less.

* I am thankful for my coworkers who saved my ass supported me when my mom's husband called to tell me that she had a weird stomach bug (so far, it doesn't seem to be the same one that graced our presence lately) and I needed to come get L.

* I am thankful for the fact that there is a crazy amount of drama going on in my building right now....like big, bad-boy drama, and I know that my principal has bigger fish to fry than worrying about me missing school again.

* I am thankful for McDonald's. Because sometimes when you are stressed, and you have a hungry, tired two-year-old and an empty pantry, McDonald's is the perfect lunch.

* I am thankful for the extra time I got at home to clean. When I left the house, a little part of me wished I could stay home and pick up, because literally every room in my house was trashed. Trashed, like those clean-your-house-shows-on-TLC-trashed. Careful what you wish for, huh?

* I am thankful for the awesome, oh-so-needed nap I got today. I am thankful that L has inherited his mommy's love of sleeping and is such a good napper. My best friend has one of those perfect kids, you know, potty trained overnight at 20 months, rarely throws tantrums, loves vegetables, but his weakness is napping and bedtime. I think I'll take the just-now-potty-trained, refusing vegetables, tantrum throwing kid, as long as sleep is not an issue. I realize for many people, that is crazy talk, but sleeping is, sadly, at the top of my favorite pasttimes list.

* I am thankful that L has been incredibly fun to be around lately. He is so expressive and funny. Today when he woke up from his nap and checked out his snack options in the fridge, he exclaimed, "Ohhhh!!! Blueberries! I'd love to eat blueberries! They are so delicious!" Then, when he finished his snack and sat down by me on the couch, he asked, "Can I snuggle with you? I love to snuggle with you, mommy." Melt. My. Heart.

What are you thankful for today?

They really DO say the darndest things.

On Thursdays, I usually stay a little later at work and get caught up after the kids leave. My gym class doesn't start until 5:30 and dismissal at work is at 4. B picks Logan up on Thursdays, so it's my one evening that I am free from the mad afternoon dash.

This week, we got an e-mail saying that we were going to have a certain club meeting at our school on Thursday and encouraged teachers to come join the fun. The purpose of this club is to provide a group and a sense of belonging for kids that just need a friend for a variety of reasons. Teachers provide the club committee with names of kids at the beginning of the year, and it's usually a pretty good turnout. The kids are also buddied up with teachers who volunteer. It's a very cool program.

Anyway. I decided to make my way down to the gym and check things out. I figured I'd stay for a little while, then go back to my room to get a little work done before heading to the gym.

Until I realized I was walking into The Land of Fun!

There were about 10 kids, four teachers, our principal and assistant principal. I joined in the first ice-breaker, a silly animal handshake game. My principal also transferred from the middle school and we kept laughing about what our former coworkers could say if they could see us know. The only animalistic greetings there landed kids in in-school suspension.

Next, we had healthy snacks and sat with the kids on the gym floor, eating and chatting. I'd never met most of these kids before. However, it was obvious why each of them were there...each one was a bit of a misfit in one way, shape, or form. It was like The Breakfast Club, elementary school style.

After the snack, we cranked up some fun music and started playing basketball. I found myself in a heated (and giggly) competition to see who could make three baskets first. The PE teachers got out scooter boards....




The kids LOVE these...they sat on them and moved their feet to slide around. They can be hooked up to each other, and kids quickly found a buddy to double their fun. One little first grade boy, however, didn't have a partner. I approached him and asked if he wanted me to contort my body two inches off the floor out of the kindness of my heart be his buddy and push him around. Enthusiastically, he agreed.

As he was coaching me on how to push and turn the board, our principal approached with a plastic wand. The little boy held one end, and she held the other, pulling us quickly. I was grinning, thinking what a difference we were making in these kids' lives and how we were really bonding with kids who really needed us.

And then he gestured to the principal's wand and said, "See? You don't have to push me now."

"Oh, okay!" I replied, "I'll just ride with you."

"Or...you could just get off," he responded.

Ahem.

Perhaps we'll bond a little more at next month's meeting.

Chasing my tail.

I want to post.

Really. I do.

I want to post about the Veterans Day assembly we had this week and how it made me cry. I want to tell you all about the "thank you for being a hero" song that the 5th graders sang to the veterans who came that made tears run right down my face. I want to paint a picture of the very elderly veteran who came to our assembly and needed his daughter's assistance to help him stand when the Marine song was sang by the students. (Yeah. I sobbed.)

I want to tell you my funny kid story of the week. It's about a second grader, who guessed that the turkey we were making in speech therapy would have 10,000 feathers when we were finished. I want to tell you that I couldn't hold back my giggles when we realized there were only 11 and he said, genuinely, "Man, I was WAY off."

I want to tell you about helping my kids who are non-verbal use their augmentative communication devices (i.e., machines that talk for them) and the big successes they've had, reporting the weather to their classmates and joining in classroom discussions.

I want to tell you about the craziest thing that happened to me via Facebook...finding out that someone I've been talking to on a fairly regular basis at work is one of my grade school friends. Neither one of us knew it until this week.

I want to tell you to go quickly to Molly Lou Gifts and check out this giveaway. I really want to win some adorable notecards.

I even want to tell you about L walking in on me and B ... um, wait, maybe you don't want to hear the rest. But for some weird reason, I do want to tell you about it.

But I can't.

Well, I guess I kind of just did.

But I can't give you all the details because I am crazy, pull-my-hair-out busy. Between trying to get back on the workout wagon, and testing 390538 kids this week, and writing more than that many reports, and putting out other fires at work, my head is spinning a bit. I almost never post from work, even during my lunch time. I feel guilty doing it. (I might not be able to say the same thing about reading your posts. Ahem.) But today, I'm putting a quick post out there just to let you know I'm alive and kickin' and will hopefully have a minute to breathe and post something interesting this weekend.

Until then, Happy Friday!