Done. . . .

The IEP has been signed and hand-delivered to the CST office at Orchard Hill Elementary School. Unfortunately, the IEP got rained and snowed on in transit from the car to the office. Since we arrived at the school around 2:45 pm, the front of the school (and all the parking close to the entrance) was restricted to school buses only. So Micah and I had to break out the umbrella and walk the length of the building to the entrance, IEP in hand, hence the soggy document we turned over to the CST secretary.

Done. Finished. Minor sensation of good triumphing over evil. Impending feeling that we will be using the word 'transition' in past tense soon, as in we have transitioned to preschool.

So now, will someone from the school district's transportation office please call me? I would like to know the whos and hows of Micah's getting to school, and since we had to be fingerprinted multiple times, scrutinized and interviewed to become his parents, I want to know that the persons accompanying him to/from preschool have undergone the same type of microscopic examination.

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Today was Micah's next-to-last session at Summit School. It was a day for the parents to observe the kids from behind the one-way mirrors, so I took a minute to stop by the school nurse's office to hand in all the forms that she had given to me over the past two weeks. She uses an incremental approach to giving out the forms 'so as not to overwhelm' new parents. I would recommend getting a read on the parent and then deciding; I would definitely prefer to have been given every last thing I had to read or fill out in one serving.

After completing my sacrifice to the gods of bureaucracy and on the way to the observation room, I met the principal in the hallway. He offered to have Micah visit the classroom he'll be joining for a short period while we were there today. So Micah missed out on finishing the project on textures to go to Miss Heather's room for her session with Ava and Tom. After doing such a good job separating from me the day of his interview, he seemed to want me to stick around.

Because Micah's IEP paperwork is complete, the principal offered that Micah can come visit his class a few times before he actually starts school on March 2nd. Now I need to find the time in the schedule to squeeze that in - and email the teacher to find out what times work for her schedule.

GPS Update: Today we dropped Thea off at YingHua, and since I'd put in Summit School's address, I decided to let the GPS plan the route. Bad idea, bad, bad, bad. I have a route that I'm used to (206 to I-287 to I-78). That thing had me taking 27 to a bunch of po-dunk roads to 22 and on up. The only good thing was there was a D-n-D with a drive-thru and the request for an extra light coffee came out just right - though it was miles beyond where I would have normally stopped. And driving up Route 22 and seeing signs that we were 14 miles from Newark was not terribly helpful, I'd rather NOT know how far of a trek it is.

Mid-Week Update

Steve went with us for his first visit to Summit School. Micah was excited to have his Daddy along for the ride and going to school, but I think he was under the impression that Daddy was going with him into his classroom. (The routine is that we walk to the room together, I open the door, Micah usually runs in to be with his friends without so much as a backwards glance and I shut the door and go to the parents' meeting.) He looked back a little bit this time so maybe he thought Daddy was going to be coming along (a show-and-tell Daddy? a fellow preschooler?)

Then after meeting the other parents, the preschool principal came in and gave a short talk on the preschool and transition (now that Micah's got his spot at Summit, I sort of spent some of the time arranging my mental sock drawer) and then we went on the tour of the preschool rooms. I did find out that Micah's room is for children with slightly more language than the first room we saw on the tour; his room is small - it looks like a converted small group observation room and uses the Discovery Room as its base of operation/home room.

The good thing is I think Steve really, really sees why we would send a three-year old on an hourlong drive to/from this particular school. I think he did before the visit, but seeing the students and the teachers in action really brought it to life.

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No call from the school district transportation office, yet. Please call, leave a message.

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There are many ways to say, "I love you." My favorite at the moment is, "Mommy, I want to pee on the potty." Followed by the sound of feet barrelling down the hall, the potty seat being slammed onto the toilet seat and pants being dropped in anticpation of Mommy finally catching up and slinging his naked behind onto the seat, and for the grand finale, the sound of liquid tinkling into the toilet bowl. The night time pee-before-bedtime streak was broken, not by the little man, but his father who neglected to offer Micah the use of the throne.

Of course the same wonderful kid who did that about twenty minutes ago just dropped a large brown monster into his Cars pull-up moments ago, so we're having a love-hate relationship with putting our waste products in the proper place.

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Sometimes Steve does good. I've been wanting for a GPS unit for my car, for months and months. But I've not been able to make a commitment - one of the medical assistants at work even had a pink Garmin she was wanting to unload for less than its cost. I wanted it, it was cheap, I wanted it bad, but I couldn't get my brain around that girly-girly pink. High-tech in a cotton candy package just doesn't cut it with me.

So tonight Steve walks in the door carrying something behind his back, a Garmin Nuvi 260

And it was NOT pink. Another way to say, "I love you." He totally rocked it for Valentine's Day. And I was going to put a link to the CNN opinion piece written by a man who thinks we should ditch Valentine's Day as an artificial, retail greed inspired holiday. Maybe next year. I want my GPS Valentine and I'm not giving it up. I'll take gadgetry over roses any day, every day. Now I just need a clue as to what to do for him, especially since the GPS, the children and I are driving down to Maryland on Friday and he's going to be by himself for the weekend. Perhaps that in itself is a gift, he gets three days of sleeping in without his little human alarm clock, three days of freedom from, "Watch Thomas Train!" two seconds after awakening.

The Wheels on the IEP Go 'Round and 'Round

The case manager at the school district called acknowledging receipt of Micah's letter of acceptance from Summit School. And to tell me to submit his immunization record to the school (already done on the day of his candidacy interview, but he needs a PPD placed.)

Next the transportation needs to be worked out, so that's the next phone call to wait for. . . .

Tomorrow Thea has another Lunar New Year performance with her school, this time in Plainsboro. It's beginning to feel like the Lunar New Year that won't go away. I'm working tomorrow and on-call all weekend. I caught a few really great breaks on Thursday in terms of no-shows so it probably means that tomorrow will be horrible in terms of patient volume.

Could it be this EASY?

The IEP that was written by our school district recommended sending Micah to Summit Speech School's preschool program. I saw it, in print.

I was there for the bottom line, having read all the reports, but to get there we had to hear a verbal recap of all the testing that was done from the speech therapist and the social worker/case manager, then they got down to the nuts and bolts: Summit's program is the best available for Micah's speech delay and hearing impairment.

Duh, duh and double duh. I've known that for about eighteen months, and have been having angst for at least the last six months over Micah's aging-out of the services he receives through Summit.

But the case manager did say that, of course if we wanted to keep Micah in district that they would make every accomodation for him. Right. That would be like choosing between Disneyland and the rides at the county fair, and I don't even like or ever want to go to Disney (and that's a subject for a post of a different kind. )

So to make it look like we weren't pouncing on this IEP we signed the "we've received this and have 15 days to respond" section.

And the social worker/case manager said that she knew from the first meeting that he would be going to Summit. Way to work the poker face, lady - the line I got from her was that "the district is more than able to meet his needs." Which I interpreted as, 'Bite me, you greedy fools, and abandon any hope of sending him out of district." Silly me.

So now I need to regroup, make plans that Micah will be on his way to preschool on March 2, and rework the timeline for getting his CT scan and follow-up appointment with Dr. Choe scheduled to allow him to get adjusted to his new routine.

And some poor special education/disabilities lawyer will not be getting our business.

Which as the Visa commercial says is PRICELESS.

IEP Eligibility Meeting

Today, at 11 am. The Child Study Team presents its reports. Which basically say that Micah is a sweet, inquisitive average child with a speech delay due to a conductive hearing loss.

Duh, duh and double duh.

Then we get to ride the Dinky, which is turning into a regular Friday thing.

Life is a Box of Cracker Jacks . . . .

Friday the social work at OHES left a message for me while Micah and I were out riding the Dinky and doing errands. I didn't think too much of it, so I put her on my Monday To-Do List and in between taking Thea to school and Ela arriving to work with Micah, I'd call.

She beat me to it, as I was sitting at the computer updating my Half.com account (I'd just mailed out an almost 20-year old Naguib Mahfouz paperback for the princely sum of $1.00 plus postage and handling) the phone rang.

Here's the stun gun part: She asked me if I would be willing to consider going to Summit Speech School for an intake interview for Micah. (For the bored and curious, http://www.summitspeech.com/)

Say whuh?

That's what I've wanted all along, but since the Service Coordinator at Early Intervention fired off that first horrific salvo in the battle to get Micah into the right preschool (aka "the parents want an out-of-district placement" debacle), I've been going along and getting along figuring that I'd save the going ballistic for the IEP meeting.

And here, before we even have the meeting to present the findings of the CTS testing, I'm being offered The Prize.

I was shocked. I promptly called the Parent-Infant Group coordinator at Summit to give her the news - but the district had already called the school, so she knew about 30 minutes before I did.

And - here's the punch line, the OHES social worker said to the school's executive director (Dr. Pamela Paskowitz) that Mom might take a little convincing to accept the placement.

Say whuh?

And when I talked to Miriam at Summit, I asked, if this has all be put into words, can it be taken back? I don't want to have the The Prize snatched away at the last second. She assures me it won't happen, and that if the district is placing him at Summit School, the cost of transportation will also be underwritten.

So Micah will be riding the bus (van) five mornings a week to/from Summit. Lucky for us, he's a seasoned car traveler.

I spent the morning practically spastic from joy, relief, whatever. Fortunately Ela and Micah had there own agenda so I was superfluous anyway. They made a photo book (from pictures I was up until 2 am printing, must find better photo printer), played with trains, made patterns while I fluttered in and out with supplies (tape, glue stick, paper).

Fingers crossed that I didn't wake up in some parallel universe where everything goes right, and tomorrow I wake up back in regular old New Jersey.

Wednesday

Today Micah and I are going to Summit School for group, and then on the way home we are stopping at Orchard Hill Elementary School so the Occupational Therapist can do her part of the Child Study Team evaluation schtick. This should be interesting, because he's usually asleep during the drive home, and he's not the speediest as waking up and being congenial.

Still no word on the second BAHA. I called to check on it yesterday and the audiologist said they had gotten a shipment in but she still hadn't had time to go through it. I was hoping for a message on the answering machine when I got home from work, not today. If it has come in, I'd love to be able to get it ASAP, but I don't know how that will fit with going to Summit, back to home to stop by the school, and then over to Edison. Got to check that out on randmcnally.com.

Tuesday was not a good day, Micah was upset for the last part of the drive to the babysitter's, wanting to go to "Mommy's offisssssss" - he's still in a snit that Thea went to work with me on NYE. He wants to go to "Micah school" - and the concept of tomorrow just doesn't figure into his mindset.

Coming up on the 16th, the Child Study Team is going to present its assessment to us. . . . .

Micah's CTS Evaluation (or the Non-Event Event)

Today was the 'big' day: Micah meets the Orchard Hill Elementary School Child Study Team. Going against our usual modus operandi, we were early, and left to freeze outside because the receptionist who buzzes people into the building was away from her post.

When we went to the CTS office, the secretary seemed a little surprised, not an auspicious sign, but I think they were hoping we would forget about the meeting - and they tried their best to help this along by not calling to confirm it.

Micah went off with the speech therapist and the psychologist while I got to answer the questions from two evaluation questionnaire - one of which re-asked all the questions she should have already had the answers to from our initial transition meeting. (What do you know about Micah's birth mother? What do you know about her prenatal history? With the two big, fat ZIP, ZERO, NADAs that she got there went two entire pages of one form.)

The occupational therapist was away today, so this part needs to be rescheduled, so it isn't over yet.

But today it finally seemed to dawn on the social worker, who is sort of functioning as the cog in the wheel of the evaluation process that Micah's third birthday is March 2. So instead of thinking that we have January, February and March to get his IEP up and running, the light bulb finally went off in her head (almost visibly) that we have two months NOT three. And she now has to get most of the report finished before the winter break.

Since the social worker has a newfound sense of urgency, she said she won't be able to go observe Micah at either his babysitter's or at Sound Beginnings at Summit School. I was pushing for her going to Summit, which was met with "I always get lost going there." A most lame excuse. Use MapQuest or get a GPS, dimwit.

Anyway, it's over - save for the OT portion. Micah seemed unperturbed by it all which is the most important thing to me. I think the report is going to be extremely interesting since no one familiar with hearing impairment is having any input, so even a relative novice like me should be able to dissect it easily.

Games the School District Plays. . .

I posted on Tuesday that the school district called on the absolute last possible day before it would be out of compliance to schedule Micah's evaluation. The message was from Sharon and she left her phone number/extension and instructed me to call back and confirm that her message was received.

And so as not to appear too eager, I waited until Thursday and called. Amazingly, I had the phone number in my head and was sitting at my desk with a semi-idle minute so I dialed.

She picked up promptly, I told her I was calling to confirm the date and time that she had provided for Micah's CST evaluation.

Insert sounds of me twiddling my thumbs while being placed on hold.

And then she came back on the line and said, "Oh, but you haven't turned in the form giving permission for the evaluation."

Huh????? My jaw dropped. The form that Micah and I dropped off at 1:15 pm on October 29, 2008, handed to the receptionist (whose name I noted on my copy of the form with the date and time.)

Once the shock abated. I recapped that SHE had called ME to schedule the evaluation, so that must mean that the school is in possession of the signed form.

Insert more sounds of me twiddling thumbs while being put on hold, yet again.

Then she came back on the line and confirmed the appointment.

This is an example of a person I am supposed to entrust with the care of my child.

Fat freaking chance.

A Slice of Life

Tonight the kids and I were going to be on our own for dinner, and since Kraft Macaroni & Cheese (aka Kiddie Crack) two nights in a row would not be a culinary high point, I decided that we would make chicken vegetable soup tonight.

We went to the store and picked up some chicken, a bag of egg noodles and a few vegetables, to be supplemented with stuff already at home. It was going to be a group project.

Until Thea got bored with being on the sidelines because chopping celery and carrots is a Mommy job. So I thought, she's been cooking at the stove (with supervision) for more than a year, how about some simple chopping? She was interested in stepping up to the big leagues and we made it through more than half dozen carrots (the baby peeled variety) before the knife met the finger and bloodshed ensued.

She was pretty calm about it, we rinsed it, elevated, wrapped it up in a couple of bandaids and she gamely went on to cut a few more before deciding to hang her knife up and move on to sauteeing the chicken.

We changed the bandaid after we got done cooking, and it was still actively bleeding and I could see it was a small flap-type cut. So I started wondering if we should go to the Fast Track at the ER to get a little Dermabond or whatever type of skin glue that is used on kids. At the mention of the ER/hospital, Thea completely lost her composure, so I really bandaged it up well in the hopes that we could at least make it through dinner. The back of my brain was still thinking we're going to need to go to the ER, wailing or no wailing.

Needless to say, Thea didn't eat much of her soup, and resumed wailing once I again mentioned that if she was still actively bleeding through the bandage, we're going.

Fortune smiled on her and it looked pretty good. Even after peeling off three bandaids it wasn't even oozing, so we all got a reprieve. And thanks to all the emotional trauma she was falling asleep on the sofa at around 7:30, but revived after the move upstairs to our bed where she managed to watch Word Girl and Cyberchase before going to bed. Since Thea still likes one of us to stay with her until she falls asleep, Micah was left on our bed, singing himself to sleep.

Meanwhile, earlier in the day, I stopped at FedEx/Kinkos to copy the form to begin Micah's evaluation by the Child Study Team at Orchard Elementary, then handdelivered the form to the school. Ela suggested registered mail, but since we were coming home from Summit School and going right down Route 206, why give the business to the USPS? The clock starts ticking, the CTS has 90 days to schedule all of his evaluations.

We survived Round One of Transition, etc.

It was sort of uneventful, other than introducing Ela to the group. That part was sort of like bringing in the scruffy, wrong-side-of-the-tracks boyfriend to meet the upper-crusty familiy. Nothing overt was said, but the members of the Child Study Team sort of had fake, frozen pleasant expressions on their face. I was told that I could bring any material along that would help the CST understand Micah's issues. So what if the 'material' was a person?

Ela drilled them as to whether they had a Teacher of the Deaf consulting with the district on its deaf and hearing impaired students. (No, but we could get one. A non-answer, IMHO.) Ela emphasized that all the evaluations on Micah thus far have shown no cognitive or motor delays, his sole issue is the hearing impairment and its impact on his language development. (Read: don't stick Micah in a room with behavioral or physical disabilities and expect this child to emerge with a life-long love of learning.)

The same social worker, who at the end of our in-home meeting said, "Oh, he has ATRESIA, too?", was again stating that they are familiar with Micah's conductive hearing loss. That was about the time I pulled out my fake, frozen smile and just screwed it on. Yes, you deluded twits are experts based on your N=1 sample of children with atresia/microtia, and you need to know nothing about the auditory/oral program he's been in for the past year because you know it all.

Oh, just bite me or kiss my cellulitic pink tushie and we'll be done with it.

The next step will be to have the child study team evaluations done, once I sign the permission - then the school has 15 days to get the evaluations scheduled and ninety days to actually complete them.

The CST, of course, wants these done as close to his third birthday as possible, even though research supposedly shows that it doesn't make that much of a difference overall.

Considering Micah hadn't napped on the drive from the sitter's to Orchard Elementary School, he deserves points for not having a meltdown, and at the least I deserve chocholate or a pedicure with blue nail polish for maintaining the facade of cooperation - which will remain in place until we're presented with the IEP (if the IEP doesn't offer us Summit School).

Addendum: The FDA ban on importing the BAHA processors (from Sweden) has been lifted. A post yesterday on the BAHA Yahoo group passed that very, very good piece of information along. Of course I haven't heard from our Early Intervention service coordinator who I emailed a couple of days ago about Micah's second BAHA.

Addendum #2: I forgot to add that Thea survived her first visit to Dr. Andy the dentist for a filling today, which he was described to her as 'cleaning' the tooth. She's only had visits for cleaning so far, and with any luck this will be the only filling for awhile. It wasn't an actual cavity, per the dentist, but a softer area that could develop into one. Daddy did dentist duty, which Thebes will tell you is alliteration.

Addendum #3: This is a rare week because I worked a half day this week and 2/3 of Friday in addition to the usual Tuesday/Thursday. I hope the office hires a new full-time provider, NP, PA or whatever, soon. Since we're in the home stretch of Early Intervention, I am not feeling kindly toward anything interfering with Micah's services.

October 2, 2008

On this date, Micah is five months away from his third birthday and so five months from today, Early Intervention services will end. Bye-bye Ela, bye-bye Estra, bye-bye group.

In Monday's meeting, the social worker from the township schools seemed to want me to wait a bit before sending out letter requesting the Child Study Team to evaluate Micah's eligibility for preschool; more time to pass, the greater chance for Micah to improve - but all packaged in a veneer of waiting would be better in terms of scheduling around holidays and whatnot.

Screw that completely self-serving idea.

The letter goes out tomorrow. To both the social worker - who encouraged me to send it to her so she could get things moving rather than the Director of Pupil Services AND the Director of Pupil Services. Why light a firecracker when carpet bombing would accomplish so much more?

The school district has 20 business days to respond, and then 90 days to get all the evaluations scheduled. And our district prefers to do its own evaluations rather than accept any that have been done by Summit School or Micah's speech therapist.