Morning

I woke up at the crack of dawn to a blow in the face precisely executed with a little elbow, a subtle indication that the Bean was ready for her breakfast, but after five sleepless mucus-ridden nights I was just happy that I had spent some time in REM sleep and I hadn't had to play ER in the middle of the night so I didn't even mind the surprisingly strong stroke of the small elbow in my face and with the grace of a drunken zombie I staggered out into the kitchen to prepare the food and the medications where through the early morning head-fog I noticed that last night's chill still lingered in the air and the sun hadn't come up yet to break the silent darkness that cozily covered the evergreen land outside so there was no background noise as I carefully pulled the Vimpat and the Keppra and the Prevacid into small plastic syringes but then the stillness of the morning was shattered by the Bean's cough, that dreadful kind that would make a beefy alcoholic smoker proud, and it was my cue for grabbing the venting gear to let the air out of her tummy and after freeing her from some explosive bubbles and some sluggish mucus and suctioning a sea of secretion out of her tiny nose, the coughing subsided and I was finally able to feed her breakfast. 

The second day of school

I really don't care for Valentine's Day; or rather, I should say I don't care for the surrounding commercial hype that either makes you feel bad for being single or puts pressure on you to spend money if you are in a relationship. I don't have intimacy issues and I fully support people's rights to express their romantic feelings for each other in various ways, including the exchange of heart-shaped balloons and stuffed animals manufactured in questionable Chinese factories, I just don't like to be pressured or manipulated into anything. However, our quirky habit to express our romantic love in memory of the murder of some obscure  Christian martyr served me well yesterday, when Izzy's  First Day of School coincided with the Valentine's Day Dance to which all parents were invited. Therefore, after emphatically asking Phil not to get me anything for Valentine's Day (since he gets me flowers and chocolate regularly on non-Valentine's days), I turned around and attended the Valentine's Day Dance with great enthusiasm. Of course commemorating the murder of some obscure Christian martyr with balloons, heart-shaped decoration an a merry festivity is a perfectly reasonable affair when it involves a group of adorable little kids with all kinds of disabilities and special needs and gives me the excuse to spend an extra hour with my daughter on her first day of school. Since we are easing Izzy into her new school career and she only spends three hours in class the first couple weeks, I was allowed to spend the remaining time in the school's lobby. I vowed that I wouldn't cause any disturbance and then happily sat in the hall while Izzy had circle time with the speech therapist and worked on some Valentine's Day craft project. She was all smiles when she came out of the classroom with glitter on her face. My assessment of Izzy's teacher was correct: she is indeed a fairy godmother, and I'm wondering to whom I can talk about possibly cloning her. While Izzy was in her reserved observation mode yesterday, her shyness greatly decreased today according to the official sources, which was also confirmed by my informants. When I picked the Bean up during lunch break, she had a ginormous smile on her glowing face, she was sitting up straight in her wheelchair beaming contentment, vocalizing and making happy sounds. I had about an hour and a half at home before I had to return to the school to bring Izzy home, and I spent the first couple minutes aimlessly wandering around, wondering what I should do with all this time that I suddenly had for myself. It was just enough time to call our insurance company to sort out some issues. I really know how to have fun. 

First day of school

School

I spent yesterday vigorously cleaning the house and baking Hungarian cheese biscuits and cinnamon roles while Izzy had fun on the beach with her nurse, not so much because I'm a domestic goddess who uses her respite hours for household chores, but because I needed the distraction and the self-soothing comfort of the repetitive motions these activities offer. Izzy is starting school on Monday, which is wonderful and I'm really excited for her between the sudden anxiety attacks that come over me when I think about it. We will ease her into the school routine and start out with short days so for the first couple weeks I will walk her to school and pick her up. The school is at the same location as the facility where she has been receiving physical and occupational therapy since before her first birthday and it is a wonderful place with a wonderful staff. 

Last week we had our first IEP meeting (i.e. individualized educational program, for the uninitiated) to establish the goals and services for the year, and while it was a heavy duty one with 15 attendants, it went very smoothly without any bloodshed. I felt blessed to be able to send Izzy to a school where I can not only trust the expertise of the staff but I can also trust that they want the best for my daughter. Izzy's teacher dropped into the meeting to introduce herself and she was this fairy godmother with a golden aura and an air of mischief about her. You could see twinkles in her eyes and hear her wings softly flap when she talked about her class. So, Monday morning, I will load up Izzy's wheelchair with her new bumblebee-bagpack, portable suction machine, binoculars and camouflage equipment, the latter two are for my hideout in the school parking lot. 

Happy Birthday, Izzy!