now fortified with impotent fury!risperdal

Please. Tell me to just take the 5 years to knit down my stash, and not to order myself a drop spindle and some roving and start down the path of MAKING my own yarn.

So I was finally sent photos which are now one year and seven months old. I don’t care. These are awesome. This is why Sean is convinced his mother has the best job in the history of ever. Behold:

Yes, that is Senor Clash, and that is the real Elmo. Elmo hung out with Sean, told him jokes, hugged him, sang ‘Sean’s World’ to him, and when Sean fell apart crying when Elmo left, Elmo came back and made fun of him. “Oh no no no. THIS is how you cry.” And then threw his red furry head back to the sky and opened his maw as wide as it would go and howled, shocking Sean into hysterical giggling.

Possibly one of the most awesome parenting days ever.

I’m fairly hair trigger with the rage right now- holidays have me stressed, work has me stressed, Sean’s attitude about school has me stressed. But a few shining examples of basic human decency (as well as some above and beyond the call kindness) have kept me from going postal. Rather than completely ranting about the assholes, allow me to sing the praises of some folks.

My company, for 1. informing me I needed a vacation 2. no really, wench, you need to take some time off and 3. even though we have work coming out of our ears, protecting everyone’s time off and not putting me in the position of having to work through the hols.

Our child’s private speech therapy provider. Our insurance battles continued long after private therapy ended. Our insurance company, currently the subject of a major lawsuit in NY state, is a bunch of heartless, bureacratic, lying donkeyfuckers, and I really don’t think I’m overstating the case there. In violation of their own policy statement, they declined to cover Sean, and they failed to notify subscribers or the husband’s employer of a change in policy coverage (they changed it. Partway through. Yay.), and every time you point out to them an error they TAKE MONEY BACK they had already paid. On top of lying about when paperwork was mailed, lying about not receiving stuff (Hi, I paid extra for delivery confirmation), lying about why they would not cover him, and changing their story more times than a Victoria’s Secret model changes outfits at the show.

The hospital, whose outpatient clinic saw Sean, has been nothing but kind, supportive, and helpful. They have mailed me copies of statements and communications with the insurance company, they have spent hours on the phone untangling the mess with me. And in the end, they extended to us- and backdated it, to cover the first enormous bill which we panicked and paid so now we’re getting comped part of it!- the enormous discount they give to parents’ whose insurance companies won’t pay. They didn’t have to, and they did. It wraps up a fight that has eaten our lives since April. Children’s Mercy, you people rule.

And on a less dramatic note than my child’s health and well being, Dee at Posh Yarns, for taking pity on a knitter. I encourage everyone to pop on over to Posh Yarns and sign up for the newsletter, so after the first of the year you can get information about how to get her gorgeous, gorgeous yarns. Dee, you have no idea how shitty a mood I was in, and how wonderful your generosity is. Thank you.

I spend my days swanning about, eating bon bon and knitting. My time is utterly invaluable. Truly, I enjoy speaking with your leadership repeatedly about Sean’s social bonding and how transitions to new classrooms for him and/or part of his social posse will be handled. I have all the time in the world to meet with you and discuss ad nauseum how the now 4 year olds will be transitioning come January, and so we need to start prepping Sean around Christmas that he’ll see a couple of his friends a little less but they’re all still at the same school. And really, I have nothing better to do with my days than deal with the inexplicable sudden hysterics at the mere mention of ’school’, which turns out to be due in no small part to you deciding without telling ANY parents that transitioning is beginning now, and sending all of our children into absolute fits as their groups of friends are busted up and some of them are thrown in with significantly older children who say such charming things as ‘you are little and stupid’.

Truly. Thank you for using my time so effectively.

Things have been pretty….crazy in the wench house. 3 business trips in 3 weeks. 3 big new projects of the sort we really can’t say no to- the sorts of things which can raise our profile enormously. These things seemingly dropped into our laps, but in reality are the culmination of years of reputation building and doing good work. The Lad’s work has been frightfully busy as well.

Oh and then there’s the fact that the little man is speaking in multiple and compound sentences, complete with conjunctions, discussion, clauses, and multisyllabic words in quantity. It’s really kind of. Bizarre. And it happens in fits and starts. The past week has seen a linguistic explosion. We’re getting to the point where random strangers can understand him over 25% of the time, which is a huge leap and a big step on his IEP goals. But this past week has also seen a drastic increase in his ability to use language sociably and for humor. To wit, on the social:

Yesterday, we took him to see the Santa at a mall. Sean hesitated by the edge of the carpet, and they thought they were dealing with a shy boy. Au contraire- we’ve taught him he has to ask before climbing onto someone’s lap. So when Santa gestured him over he barrelled into the poor jolly guy and tacklehugged him. Santa hoisted Sean up and said, “Ho ho ho, and what is your name, little boy?” “I am Sean!” the kid crowed. And then, with a sweeping, gracious gesture he indicated the 4 adults standing nearby. “And this is my mommy, an’ dis is my daddy. An’ I like you to meet my Auntie De-ah an’ Auntie Christine.”

Okay then, little mister head of protocol for Buckingham Palace.

Earlier yesterday, we had a moment where we thought we were out of coffee. Sean overheard us discussing this and went wide eyed, yelling, “OH SHOOT. THAT IS SO NOT GOOD.” He recognizes the heavy duty caffeine addictions going on here. And then he was being testy later, and we started asking him what he wanted on his english muffin. Each offer (butter? jelly?) prompted him to get more upset, so we started asking silly things. “Do you want an alligator on it?” I asked him. He rolled his eyes and, quoting Charlie and Lola, informed me, “Nooooo! Alligators are for fancy” and then cracked up.

Well okay then.

All told, we’re doing well. We survived the one two bitchslapping by mother nature (ice storm and then snow storm), and the short ribs braised in onions and beer that I made in response turned out spectacularly. I’m not quite at the panic point on holiday knitting. I AM at the panic point on baking, as I am woefully behind but can catch up this week if I focus. No holiday cards are done whatsoever, but eh, it’s only December 4!

It’s the most harried time…of the year!