Fun New Game: Let's play "Stomach Virus or Food Poisoning"?
Let's see. There were items to indicate that it was either food poisoning or a tummy bug. I'm not sure which, but I did spend 7 hours on the couch with intermittent consciousness. Which sounds like fun. Until you realize there was vomit involved. Good news? Children unaffected.
I would like to tell you the crazy that this Early Intervention is, but I don’t think I can fully capture it. Here goes:
We are doing the eval on Monday, but they won’t tell us then whether Bobo needs therapy. We need to wait for Wednesday’s review meeting. But the review meeting won’t take place if he doesn’t qualify for services. (So if you're real smart like me...like I, you can figure out what it means if your meeting isn't cancelled.)
So, if he doesn’t need therapy, they will cancel the Wed mtg after the Mon mtg. On Wednesday at the review meeting, we need to name the person we want to do the therapies (that we don't know until the meeting he needs).
So she told me to interview the therapists and have one (them?) picked out by Wednesday. So I am going through their resumes online right now. How do you pick someone? She told me to call and interview them. Most of them only work 9:30-3 M-F, so do I pick one who does evenings and weekends or someone with a lot of experience who might not be current on latest info or not energetic or someone young and inexperienced but playful?
Chuckles turned 5, and I did not die. I cannot believe I am the mother of a 5-year old. A 4-year sounds like a big toddler, a preschooler perhaps. But a 5-year old is a kid. A real-live person.
We threw a birthday party for him. 53 people came. There was a giant, inflatable thing in my backyard with a slide and obstacles and jumping areas. And it was awesome. We got 3 out of 6 grandparents to go into it. There was some rain. We had a campfire. And S'mores! There was my version of a pinata (a Trader Joe's bag on a pulley system in the front yard). There were kids and cake. And leftovers (which have been discarded, see also Food Poisoning, possible). How awesome would it be to give your entire family and all your friends food poisoning? The answer is not awesome at all. Only Mr. Long-Suffering, my dad, and I were sickened, so I think maybe we all just caught a bug.
Chuckles received too many toys, a gaggle of books, and enough clothes to rival any sorority sister. And, of course, he wants more. But he's being parented firmly but lovingly back into reality ("Are you kidding me? You cannot get a new toy/book. You just got a million new Zhu-Zhu pets/Transformers/cars/sprinklers.")
Bobo had the gall to smile at me the other night while awake at 1 am. Dang him! Dang him to heck! He and I spent a lovely lightning-filled evening together from 11 pm until 2am where every time I set him down he cried like the crib was made of lava. Then, in an act of quiet desperation, I called my husband (who was at work) and demanded to know where I had left the ibuprofen (sure, that sentence reads funny, but it was the middle of the night and when upright, the child was smiling at me. There is nothing more infuriating than that.) So, ibuprofen was administered and he was kept upright for the requisiste 15 minutes for it to kick in, and then, I laid him down. And I slept. Sweet baby Bobo, sleep is a glorious thing (especially when recovering from Vomit-Fest 2010).