Battle

Tomorrow is Niko's IEP. Individual Education Plan, for those of you lucky enough not to deal with them. This is where we sit down with Niko's teachers, therapists, etc etc etc and basically do battle.

It shouldn't be battle, but it is. It's two hours of negotiating, of basically being told everything that is wrong with your child and brainstorming ways to help it. Can he climb stairs? Yes, so we're okay there. Does he still walk on his toes? Yes, so we need to work on this. Can he speak? No, so we need to do sign language. No, I don't want to do sign language, we already tried that. Ix-ne on the ign language-se. So how about picture exchange? I loathe picture exchange, but he is much more likely to do that than sign language. Are we all on board with picture exchange? Which pictures does he need? Who will provide the pictures? We need to do it the exact same way, so how shall we do it. On and on and on. It's very wearing.

I always dress for IEP. I don my armor. Tomorrow I will be wearing St. George slaying the dragon and my battle axe on a chain around my neck. I need to remember that I am Niko's voice. They have so many kids to worry about, and I am only concentrating on Niko, so I need to avoid being crushed in the machine.

This IEP will be different, though, because I need to discuss the way that things went down at school on Monday. I felt ambushed and unprepared for what they wanted to tell me, and springing it on me like that was not okay. Discussing it in front of my son was not okay. Niko was distressed when I broke, and that wouldn't have happened if I had received some warning. I want to handle this with an open mind and hopefully some grace, but they need to know that discrimination will not be tolerated. After the IEP, I am calling the school district.

I was so weary. I was so tired of constant disappointments and challenges, of all of these low things that are happening daily right now. I was exhausted by the appointments, the bad news with his broken leg, with the meds. It gets old to follow him around every day, trying to get him to eat something soft instead of dry-crunchy, trying to get him to dress himself and decipher what he's pointing at. I need a break. I'd sell my soul for a day at home without anybody here. But here's what I have decided.

Niko needs me. And really, that's all there is to it.