Unemployed! (and Preschool)

Yes, they said they were demoting me because of special needs child. But! They kept me at the same salary, reversed themselves on the "demotion" (can you say lateral move?).

And then fired me in late July.

So. How are you?

I was curiously calm about the situation. No, seriously. I am not a calm person. But (originally) this did not have me panicked.

Preschool. That had (has?) me panicked.

Spunx goes to a special needs preschool. He had to compete and apply for a position, but the process was fairly painless. Fairly. Completely inefficient, mind bogglingly wasteful, but fairly painless. (To be clear FINDING the school is crazy stupid; the school is lovely.)

He's acclimated (better than I have), and will happily get into the yellow bus. and I'm sitting here thinking HE'S THREE.

Where did the time go?

Time to get a job

Last week

To be clear, I'm not undergoing any treatment. In fact, a few times I'm voiced the desire to have more children to anyone other than H, the response has been... not supportive. My father even said I was "selfish" to think about having another child while Spunx was having problems.

But last week.

Last week I thought I was pregnant.

It was awesome.

I couldn't keep anything down. Various body parts felt aflame. Dry heaves. Etc.

It was awesome.

We'd recently switched to a GFCF diet (because that's what's you do). We'd been to see a fringe physician who specialized in Autism. He asked a lot (A LOT) of questions, and when we mentioned problems with IF, Wacky Doc blamed gluten. And said that if we followed his guidelines, we could get pregnant. That easy.

So.

This week, I'm having my period.

I Hate My Job

Which is sad, because I used to love it. For a while, when everything else was going pear-shaped, it was the only thing that I could hold on to.

And then they demoted me because "I have a special needs child." I was working 14 hour days, doing the work of two (or more) people, and I said that I couldn't anymore. And their response was to demote me, as I said. But they did replace me with 2 people.

Update

I think that Spunx is fighting a cold at the moment. Which is scaring me incredibly, for no good reason.

I'm told by his therapists he's making progress, and I'm taking their word for it.

I guess.

He says some words, some times. But he's not... normal. He doesn't talk, but he might recite. He knows almost all of "The C.at in the H.at." He (apparently) holds the highest of high scores on my babysitter's version of "A.ngry B.irds."

But.

Good News is Still Crappy

The good news is that all talk of "maybe we shouldn't be married anymore" has faded. (If you call THAT good news). It's not that H and I looked at each other and fell madly in love. It's just that, well, we love our kid. And he's in trouble.

So. The diagnosis is PDD-NOS. Which means "We think you're kid's autistic, but we don't know why." Autism Lite, a friend called it.

Christ.

So the good news (and again, I'm being pretty lose with the term 'good' here) is that the thought is if we can get Spunx 30 or 40 hours of therapy in the next few years, he may be able to be able to transfer into a mainstream kindergarten. Maybe.

Yikes.

And yes, that was not a typo. Thirty or forty hours a week of therapy. Some speech, some OT, some Play therapy (my kid needs to be taught how to play). Some Physical Therapy, as well.

Christ.

I'm not sorry I had him. Not that you that thought I felt that way. But just so its said.

God it just hurts. And when I'm done hurting, I feel angry. Then I go back to hurting. Full cycle.

The good news (does "good" have any real meaning anymore? I think not...) is that Lito's preschool will be paid for. Of course, it has to be a special needs preschool. And they'll even pick him up and drop him off.

Yay?

He doesn't look at me. He doesn't call me Mommy. (Not that he's snubbing me. He doesn't look at anyone. And he doesn't call anyone anything).

The IF dream is simple, but escalating. First it's to get pregnant, then to stay pregnant. Then to give birth to a healthy child. And ultimately to be called Mommy. To get the crappy handmade gifts for Mother's Day that wil always be cherished. To kiss the boo boos.

I don't get the whole dream. And I feel sorry for myself. And then I feel sorry for Spunx.

And then it hurts.

Full cycle.

Autism

Spunx has autism.