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So Simon is in special ed. I’m fine with, even happy about it.

His speech is improving. His fine motor skills are coming along nicely.

And today, we moved one step closer to correcting his crossed eyes.

So why do I spend so much time sighing?

Because his behavior, the thing that has frustrated us most, has not improved. He still hits, kicks, bites and head butts everyone he knows and even some people he doesn’t.

He bit his day care teacher so hard she got a round purple bruise punctuated by little tooth-mark hyphens. She was in his personal space.

He stabbed our beloved cat with a screwdriver as he was wheezing out some of his final breaths. The cat was the center of attention at the time.

Something is not right. I’ve tried everything I can think of. We have figured out some things, such as yelling never helps, even to get him to stop doing something that could hurt him. For instance if I yell, “HOT!” as he’s reaching for the stovetop, he’ll rush his hand there all the faster.

If he accidentally hits his head on, say,┬áthe kitchen countertop, he’ll lash out and bang his head some more on the floor. I don’t dare try to comfort him in that situation. He’ll head butt or bite me for sure.

We’re constantly walking on eggshells. The other kids are getting shortchanged. The geek and I are bickering over really stupid things.

So yesterday, I called Fraser, a center moms of special-needs kids seem to worship. He’s on a waiting list to be evaluated for Autism. That’s not to say I am certain that’s what it is, or even that the Fraser people think that. It could be something else entirely. But I want someone to tell me what it is, and I WANT HELP. I don’t know how to handle him. If he continues like this, he can’t possibly function in the real world.

I hope it’s something I’m doing wrong. I hope someone can tell me what to do better. But my gut says it’s something more.

I hear all the time about parents who are in denial, who don’t want to hear that something might be wrong with their child. Honestly, I have to believe those people are few, because right now, in the thick of it, I would do anything to find out how to help him. He’s frustrated and angry all the time. So are we. I want us all to be happy, and I really don’t care what it takes. If it means someone has to throw a label on him, fine. So be it. Label the hell out of him. Just help me help him, please.

But hey, it’s not all dark clouds and death around here! Check out the new kitty — he purrs and purrs and plays and he’s super-duper soft and yay! I think we all needed something cute and cuddly, and we found him. His name is Harry.




The whole family is leaving for the weekend, except little ol’ me, who is out of vacation time. I’ve been looking forward to three days of reading, shopping and sleeping.
As we’re packing her clothes today, Clare says, in her innocent, three-year-old voice:
“Mommy, you won’t be ALL alone this weekend. You’ll have Darby and Lenny (the cats) to keep you company. So you won’t be lonely.”
How thoughtful.
I’m probably gonna miss her, a little.