Our three year/transitional IEP meeting is tomorrow. Also known as the day things really begin, we see where we stand, we have something solid (ie: “No, you can’t do that”) and therefore get a hint of the next step in this convoluted process. And yet right now I feel calm. Even happy.
I think it has everything to do with a dream I had last night. In the dream, I was driving Damian to school but I’d forgotten his gummy bear vitamins (an important part of the morning driving ritual) and so I had to stop and get them. Only somehow, in the logic of dreams, we were in New York and so I was going to stop at my father’s place to pick some up (because of course we keep gummy vitamins there – dream logic again). New York parking being what it is, I parked a block away and went off to fetch the gummies. Leaving Damian in the car because it was only going to be a minute, after all. (Again, dream logic. I would NEVER EVER do that.) Got to my father’s building, told him a bit about what was going on with the (see above) convoluted, freaky kindergarten situation. Then ran back to the car. Which wasn’t there. Car and Damian both. Gone. In the midst of a busy New York City street.
Not a good dream. But an important one, I think. I can’t lose sight of Damian in this. Yes, we’re doing all this on his behalf. Nevertheless, how he is right now, being his parents right now, helping him continue to develop right now, those are just as important as making sure his future will be okay. I’ve been distracted, stressed, overwhelmed, in intense strategizing mode. I need to be calm, engaged, playful, pushy. I’m not saying I should pretend or that I should suppress out the very real things I’m going through. But that’s not all there is. It can’t be.
So today on the way home from school, I asked Damian a lot of questions about the bus he now takes from his morning school three days a week. We talked about the nonsense song he was singing (it was in Froggy Language), he told me what the various words meant. He said “meek” meant “duh.” Or at least that’s what I thought he said. He got impatient with me, kept trying to correct me. Finally he said “You spell it ‘Tee Aitch Eee.’” Oh. The. Which made me feel good, too, because he’d thought of clarifying via spelling. Which means reading is starting to become more internalized the way a new language does when you’re more fluent. Which is very cool.
And later we played street hockey in the back yard and we laughed and slammed the puck back and forth between us and his eye contact was great and his affect was high and we were both having fun and I thought, “It’s going to be okay, it’s all going to work out.” Because worst case scenario? His school placement is still up in the air come September and so I home school him for a few months. That would actually be fun.
My dream was on target. I needed to focus on him again. It’s one thing to be an advocate. And a mighty powerful thing it is. It’s another thing altogether to simply be a parent. Remembering what it’s like to connect with the child you love. That’s the most powerful role of all.