Updates, Get Your Red-Hot Updates

So...the very exciting thing that I completely forgot to talk about (because I am lame, tired and overstressed generally) is that I got an email from Not One of Us saying that they wanted to purchase/publish a short story ("Drone") and a poem ("The Dream of the Astronaut"). So big, big thanks to sovay for pushing me in that direction--ie, towards submitting to places I'd never heard of before in general, and Not One of Us in specific. I'm pleased, happy, and feel almost useful again.

The Toronto Preschool Speech and Language meeting on Monday went fairly well; looks like they're going to try integrating use of image-cards into Cal's Daycare, so we'll have to back that up by doing the same at home. I started to pack him a daily lunch, gluten-free, to minimixe cross-contamination. It's a bit difficult because some other kids there have peanut allergies, which means whatever I send needs to be scrupulously peanut-free; OTOH, I don't think anybody tries to share his food much, as a rule. And he's actually eating what I send, which also rocks.

moon_custafer took me out to dinner on Tuesday, which I appreciated. Though I had to bring Cal along, this didn't turn out too badly...he was pleasant, only a little stimmy, and didn't start getting really loud 'til the end. Later, I thought a bit about the future, and realized that my main hope for him is that eventually, instead of a three-year-old who's sort of just started acting like an eighteen-month-old (constant scribble-talk, physical play, rolling and chasing balls, noticing animals, etc.), what he'll be is a twenty-five-year-old who acts like a twenty-four-year-old. Or even a fifteen-year-old...I could take that, too. Though trying to get him to accept that he couldn't go out with girls "his age" might be pretty trying.;)

Then there was the orientation meeting at the Geneva Centre, on Wednesday. A predictable blend of wrenching and weirdly comforting. I know I probably need to cultivate friendship or alliances with other parents, but I can't think about that right now...don't want to, anyways. I'm tired, and it's daunting. Still, I'm glad we went, and I think we learned some valuable things. Plus, I now feel like I underestimated Steve's commitment somewhat, which is--good. Very good. The next step is our social worker home-visit, on the 20th; she'll observe Cal in his natural habitat, and we'll try to hammer out a plan of therapeutic action. It'll be expensive, but there may be options (beyond begging and scraping to the 'rents, even).

At the GC, they wanted us to list what we saw as our children's strengths rather than ennumerate their "problems"/behaviours. For Cal, I put down: Good-looking and lovable. Very loving. Great sense of humour. Loves to laugh. Great memory. Loves music, loves to dance. And for some reason, even looking at it now makes me want to cry--why? It's not like any of it's untrue, or BAD. Stupid. But I can't help it.

What else? Dr Gora responded to my request he test Cal for Candida with: "There is no Candida test for young children." Obvious bullshit, probably the usual antipathy medical doctors have for naturopathic remedies, plus the simple way he said it made me want to snap: Listen, motherfucker--just because I cried in your office last week, don't EVER think you know thing fucking one about me, mine, or why I do what I do. If it was just about me, that'd've been a deal-breaker, and I would have immediately demanded to be assigned another doctor...but it's not about me, is it? I need that asshole. Yet another asshole I "need".

Which brings us to today: Two classes spent teaching people how to do Visual Presentations, two spent giving Midterm Exams. In one of the latter, this borderline high-seeming Armenian guy wandered in, sniffed the air and announced, loudly: "It smells like piss in here!" While simultaneously staring at me, as though I had something to do with it, which A) I did not and B) Holy shit! Just SHUT THE FUCK UP, idiot.

So: "Yeah, okay," I shot back. "That must be because I just pissed in here, obviously; you caught me."

"But it really does!"

"Just sit down and take the test, man."

He stared at me again, apparently (dimly) figuring out that what he'd said had somehow annoyed me, though maybe not exactly why. "Sure. Well, uh, I didn't mean to be, like, offensive..."

And yeah, I'm a mean bitch, 'cause I really did have to laugh out loud at that. Loudly. And long-ly. Yet more evidence that there's an entire generation of kids out there with no filter whatsoever between brain and mouth--gumball thinkers who seem driven to blurt out any dumb crap that forms in their mind, almost at random. Because they love that word, too, eh? "Random." It's like the Family Guy default mindset: Oh wow, so RANDOM! COO-OOL!

But then I spent the rest of the next four hours reading Tom Holland's Rubicon, which I believe much of Rome may have been inspired by, and I felt a bit better. Free ancestor-worship and crucifixions for all!