What’s in a number? I refused cognitive testing today at Ashlynn’s school. Despite me saying I was so sure about not doing it two months ago, I still agonized over the decision until today. Today, the psychologist and myself finally had a chance to chat. She has 20 years of experience and has been working with preschool kids exclusively. She sounded smart, thoughtful, and honest. As I ran through my
I can’t remember a time since I learned to write that I stopped writing. I was the girl with diaries, journals, writing pads, and notebooks filled with writing. Obviously now, I continue to write. There was a time though my writing was noticeably absent. I recently scoured my notebooks and old blogs searching for what I wrote around the time of Ashlynn’s diagnosis and came up empty. I had many
Apraxia is a journey. Speech apraxia is a journey, but global apraxia? Even MORE SO. So many skills to work on. So many things to improve. So many negative prognostic indicators to plow through. The good news is that Ashlynn doesn’t know anything about prognostic indicators. She doesn’t know how heavily loaded she is in the negative column. Not yet anyway. When I first had her receive services she was
Professional development today found me in a room full of teachers checking boxes about our personality characteristics. In the left column, characteristics were decidedly rigid, black and white, and defeatist. On the right were characteristics that spoke of resilience, “can do” attitudes, and a try again spirit. I felt a little bad going through my own (private) personality. I marked off mostly a “mixed” personality which was in the middle.
I always say they aren’t any easy answers, only tough choices in this game of parenting. Sometimes, I think I know too much. The special education teacher approached me yesterday about placement for Ashlynn going into Kindergarten. Her attention is such a problem. It could be related to the apraxia and sensory processing disorder, or it could be something else. Who the hell knows. I know she was giving me
It started with the name disintegration at Thanksgiving. My concerns about her writing were brought up to the staff as she flitted playfully around her preschool room while we talked. I cried and I made tough decisions. She noticed. I didn’t know it at first. It started out innocently with her asking when she would see Dione (her private OT) again. I told her I had to apply for more