It was tranquil. So different from my day.
Last week Kristina Chew blogged about this article that shared a scientific study's findings that mothers of kids with autism produce much lower levels of the stress hormone cortisol than typical mothers. My unscientific take is that if our bodies responded to the sorts of things that would trigger stress in a typical person that we'd be such ginormous stress balls that we'd drop dead, so it's a self-preservation thing.
Ya, well, pushed to the limit, those stress levels can be boosted again. Oh yeah.
Today it started with all the plans I had for Nick's schooling for next year crumbling before me. At his last IEP meeting, I arranged for him to attend a different school, one with a classroom designed specifically for kids with autism. I was so excited. We switched speech therapists to get Nick ready for using the PECS system more consistently so that he'd be well-prepared for the way the class functioned. It was going to be awesome.
But then someone from the district's transportation office called me; she was setting up Nick's transportation for next school year. She had the pick up and drop off locations right . . . she had the school wrong, though. I told her the name of the school that he was supposed to be attending.
And she told me that the preschool on that campus had been closed.
What followed was me calling four different people at the district's special ed department, trying to get answers. I mean, how can you shut down a preschool program and not inform the parents of the children who are supposed to attend that program? If it hadn't been for that conversation with transportation, would I have showed up to drop Nick off at the first day of school just to find locked doors?
I was pissed.
By the end of the morning, this is what I had learned: thanks to the lovely legislators who think kids with disabilities are a wonderful thing to swing their budget cut ax at, the preschool program was shut down, and the classes have been redistributed to various elementary schools throughout the district. The autism class, gone. Completely. Fabulous.
But here's some good news. I was able to get Nick into a class a Noah's school. And the teacher from the now-dead autism class is the teacher for this class. For once Nick will have a teacher who actually knows a bit about autism, so that's a good thing.
But dude, really, how could they NOT tell the parents about all this? Really.
My adrenaline was certainly pumping from the experience; I was ready to punch anyone who even sneezed at my kids. Yeah, you gotta watch this petite thing when the adrenaline is pumping--I'm dangerous (some of you know this!).
Eventually I calmed down. Fortunately my obligation at campus for the day was reduced; I only had to be there from 3-5 instead of 1-5. I've been using respite to help me get through my June obligations. It's taken some finagling. Because I couldn't find one person who could cover all the time, I've had two people in overlapping shifts.
Thank goodness I only had to be there from 3-5. Thank goodness, or Nick would've been stranded today.
You see, the first person stays until two, then leaves to pick up another child from school. The second person comes at two.
Yeah, she didn't come today.
I was watching the clock, cortisol percolating. By 2:15 I was loading both boys into the car. Hey, I could give presentations to hundreds of incoming freshmen with a squirrelly autistic four-year-old with lots of verbal stims at my side . . . right?
The adrenaline was pumping again. How could she leave my kid stranded like that? How would I manage to get to campus on time? What was I going to do with Nick? An undergrad was going to hang out with Noah and keep him entertained, but I couldn't imagine how she'd be able to manage Nick too. Especially when I didn't have time to go over the Autism 101 primer.
Dude, how do you just not show up when a kid is counting on you?
I expressed this to her supervisor, who I spoke to from the car in the midst of all this.
W. left work, met me in a parking lot, and took Nick. Then Noah and I rushed away. We pretended to be Speedy Gonzales because we were certainly speeding. We miraculously got to campus then ran to where his sitter was waiting. And then I ran to where a co-worker would be waiting for me to give our four presentations in a row to hundreds of freshmen.
I walked in the door with the freshmen. Sheesh. But at least I made it.
And now I'm hoping the cortisol will work itself out of my system so that I can sleep. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.
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