Mom to the Screaming Masses

My bipolar self

The Bipolar of which I speak is my vision for my house.

Specifically, how much of my house must should reflect the fact that masses of children live here?

When you walk in my house, the first room on the right is one that The Hubster has called the prayer room.  Two sofas, piano and two bookshelves in there.  No toys.

To the left is the dining room.  Table, chairs, and side table.  No toys.

The room I'm pondering is the great room.  The television room.  The family room.  It's the biggest room downstairs, and it backs up to the playroom.  I have NO trouble with toys in the playroom.  That's (duh) the purpose of that room.  There are shelves, cabinets, cubbies, and drawers for kid stuff.  But, I have a problem with the toys migrating into the great room.  I like for that room to be tidy.  Well, except for the enormous pile of laundry that appears daily and makes its home on the sofa.

The Hubster, though, has no compunction about putting toys all over the room.  He put a kids bookshelf in the front hall, which bugs me no flippin end.  I move it out, he moves it back.  He put up the little roller coaster in that room. 

I struggle with the conundrum - it is the kids house after all.  We do have masses of children living here, and so it makes sense that the house should be comfortable for them and reflect their presence.  At the same time, I want to have a serene, tidy home.  And that doesn't match up with toys all over.

Plus, we have the struggle between myself and The Hubster of the kitchen table.  We had an 84" table with six chairs.  It was very nice, and we have had it since we were married.  It was super annoying, though, because the legs of the table and chairs are very detailed and I'd have to scrub them to get the gunk out.  The leaf was inserted a long time ago, but The Hubster stood on the table once to change a bulb and the leaf dropped 1/4 inch. Not much in terms of space, but enough to collect the gunk.  So, I told The Hubster that I wanted to get a new table and chairs, and he was ALL set with an idea.  His boss was trying to sell his.  Most of our house is furnished by these people - they like to buy new furniture like some people buy underwear.  We've bought three beds, bureaus, our dining set and multiple large toys from them.  Everything that they sell is not more than 2 years old and looks almost new.  I agreed - it sounded like a good deal.  $100.

Except.

The Hubster came home with a table that was 48", with the leaf inserted, and four chairs.  48 inches.  Four chairs.  Eight family members.  Plus a few extra people at least twice a week.  He couldn't understand why I was so upset.  It's in great shape.  The chairs swivel, though, and the arms bang into the table.  Can you imagine what my kids do with the swiveling chairs, which are also on casters?  Can you say constant banging, and chairs flying across the room?  I knew you could!

So I'm looking for a new kitchen table.  Something like this, but in white.  I don't particularly care for the chair design, but it's better than the overstuffed vinyl chairs that we have now.  I'd REALLY be thrilled with a bench for the back. 

The Hubster claims that I can't have a table that big and not be happy with toys all over.  It's two separate things, in my mind.  Agree, disagree? 

It's quiet

Well, not exactly.  But there is no screaming from big kids, no running in the house and slamming the doors.  No name calling, no bullying.  The four oldest are at school, ALL DAY LONG.  Yesterday was the first day of school, but it was a teaser day.  They only went until 12.  What a joke.

But, today is good.  Until 2:15, when I have to leave, it's just me and the two littles.  I have nothing on the schedule today, other than laundry and dishes.  I plan to spend some time exercising and writing.  I WILL do some of each, every day.  Emma is very low maintenance, while Riley isn't, but she will at least take a nap. 

Here's a picture for your viewing pleasure:

That would be Gabe's "all about me" bag, with his self portrait on the front.

The pile of lunch boxes and backpacks

Riley's obvious hatred of the sand

And her eventual enjoyment

I found a new shirt, with tags still on it, in the back of my closet.  I ordered books from Amazon, since I had to replace the lost library books - Nikolas checked out books from school over the summer and lost them - and bought a few for myself.  The Hubster made dinner last night, and the house is mostly clean.  I made three scrapbooks online, so now I don't feel so incredibly behind with my kids photos. 

So, for today, life is good. 

Letter

Here is my letter to the state board.  For some reason, all my cool underlines and italics didn't paste properly, but, rest assurred that all ofthe journals and articles are correctly attributed.

To Whom It May Concern:


I am writing to request a reversal of the denial of my daughter Riley’s request for Occupational Therapy. Riley was referred to Dr. Thomas xx by her primary care physician, Dr. primary care, due to multiple difficulties she was experiencing. Riley is my sixth child, and she was clearly struggling. I am very familiar with normal behaviors in infancy and toddlerhood, and Riley’s behavior was far beyond abnormal. She was not sleeping; at the age of 15 months, an average day of sleep for her was 8 hours, broken up between one small nap and the rest sporadically during the night. She was not eating very many foods. Because of her extremely limited diet, she was constipated and anemic. She was extremely unhappy; she screamed or cried the majority of her awake time. She threw 6-8 tantrums each day, banging her head on the floor, slapping anyone who held her and throwing herself out of my arms. She bit her thumb to comfort herself, forming a bloody place on her thumb that took months to heal. She had almost no expressive language, having lost the majority of her words by fifteen months. She did not tolerate basic hygiene, screaming and hitting when I tried to clip her nails, brush her teeth or wash her face or hair. She did not tolerate most clothing, pulling it off and screaming if we put shoes or socks on her feet. Our life with Riley was a joke. I spent almost every day at home with her, as we were unable to take her anywhere. She reacted badly to noises, crowds, lights and people. I spent the days trying to make her happy, and not succeeding. From the time Riley was six months until her visit with Dr. xx, we had only one picture of her smiling. Dr. xx diagnosed her with Sensory Integration Disorder. It is an autistic spectrum disorder. He also said that she had an expressive speech delay, but advised us that if we treated the SID with therapy, her speech would come. He gave us handouts to work with her on speech, and sent us to the Occupational Therapy Department.

We began Occupational Therapy on June 2, 2005, at the advice of Dr. xx. We met with ---- once a week. We suck Insurance Company denied her for coverage, but we thought it was so important to the sanity of our family that we decided to self pay for the weekly visits while we appealed the claims. We began a home program of brushing and joint compression, and did home therapy exercises daily that were given to us by ----. In therapy, we worked with Riley on various textures that caused her distress – we spent time dealing with goopy, sticky and gooey substances. We worked with foods that she refused and got her to eat them.

Our family saw immediate and gratifying changes in Riley. She began to sleep. With the techniques taught in therapy, we were able to calm her during her tantrums, and her tantrums dropped to 1-2 a day. After two months of therapy, she has all but stopped with tantrums.

We have been in OT for two months, and Riley is a different child. She smiles, she plays, she interacts with her siblings in positive ways. She eats a larger variety of food, and tolerates different situations of noise and light much better. She is a calm, focused child. She is happy.

Occupational Therapy is the use of purposeful activity to maximize the independence and maintenance of health of an individual who is limited by a physical injury or illness, cognitive impairment, a psychosocial dysfunction a mental illness a learning disability or an adverse environmental condition. The practice encompasses evaluation, assessment, treatment and consultation. For a child, purposeful activities include swinging, climbing, jumping, drawing and writing. These activities are a child’s occupation. Under the guidance of a therapist, the child actively takes in movement and touch information in playful, meaningful and natural way that help the brain modulate these neural messages. The child responds favorably to the therapy, because the nervous system is changeable at this time of his life.


We suck has denied her coverage for two reasons. The first reason they offered was that they do not provide coverage for Developmental Delays. Riley does not have Developmental Delays. All of her paper work is clear to state that fact. Her primary care physician, as well as her OT, has said that developmentally she scores an average of 10 months ahead of her peers. This is not a child with a developmental delay.

we suck has also denied her claim based upon their belief that Occupational Therapy is an experimental cure for Sensory Integration Disorder. This was stated in the Peer Review report, dated 8/1/2005, completed by Dr. wrong opinion. He stated a diagnosis opposite of what the two doctors who examined Riley determined that she suffered from. He stated that in his opinion, she has Developmental Dyspraxia and Perceptual Motor Disability, as well as Developmental Coordination Disorder. He felt confident to make this diagnosis despite the fact that he has never examined my daughter. She has none of the characteristics of these disorders, and in fact, as stated above, has no delays at all, except in the area of speech.The definition of a delay is to cause to be later or slower than expected or desired.  The definition of a disorder is an ailment that affects the function of mind or body.  A child with a delay can be given time and can catch up with his peers.  A child with a disorder cannot.  He requires assistance His statement that “the fundamental theory of sensory integration therapy is based on the neurophysiologic theory that is dated and inconsistent with the current understanding of the function of the central nervous system” is untrue. Also, his statement that “dysfunction… related to cerebral cortical activity is contrary to current neurological theory” has no basis in the research that I have done.

In the UMKC Institute for Human Development’s fact sheet, footnoted from the Latitudes issue October 31, 1998, article titled “Brain stimulation for Autism?” it is stated that Sensory Integration is cured by Occupational Therapy.

In Sensory Integration Quarterly, 21 (2), 1-5, by Kinnealey and Miller in 1993, in the article “Researching the effectiveness of Sensory Integration”, parallels are clearly made by the authors that determine that individuals suffering from this condition are, at the minimum helped, and in many cases cured, by Occupational Therapy.

In Frames for of Reference for Pediatric Occupational Therapy, 2nd edition 1999, Kimball’s article “Sensory Integration Frame of Reference: theoretical base, function/dysfunction continua, and guide to evaluation” also draws the same conclusions. Sensory Integration can only be helped by Occupational Therapy.

In the journal Zero to Three, distributed by the National Center for Clinical Infant Programs, the article “Interconnections between sensory and affective development in early infancy”, identical conclusions are proven.


We suck will cover my daughter minimally if I elect to use the State Infant Program. When I called for this, I was told that I could not be guaranteed the same therapist each time, my daughter might be placed in group therapy, and there was a waiting list. All of these pointed to the fact that this was not the best avenue for me to pursue for therapy. An 18 month old child needs the continuity of care provided by one on one therapy with the same therapist each session. The idea that a different therapist would be in attendance each session, with no history with my daughter, would mean that the therapy would be slow to find improvement.

When ----, our Occupational Therapist, was on vacation for a week, we had to miss a session. The week that my daughter missed showed a difference in her daily activities. She reverted to her prior behaviors, and was much more difficult to console and deal with.

We suck should cover my request for one year of Occupational Therapy for my daughter, as other insurance companies do offer this coverage. xx is one example, as is xx/yy. It is also covered by xx for military members. I am requesting the coverage of care that will improve the quality of my daughter’s life, as well as the life of all members of our family.  I also question as to why we suck paid for me to take my daughter to specialists that they recommended, and clearly had confidence in, if they had no desire to follow the doctor’s recommendations for care

Please help us to improve the quality of Riley’s life, and that of our family members.


Thank you for your time and consideration,

MTTSM

Put a fork in me, I'm DONE!

Sorry for the small bit of blog absence this week.  Monday is the first day of school.  The.FIRST. DAY.OF.SCHOOL.

Long live school. 

This week, I have:

• covered 14 books for Allegra and 11 for Mackenzie.  Inventor of the stretchy fabric cover, I puffy heart you.  (Nikolas will get his books on Monday, and I'll have to cover those that night. ) That just left the consumables to be contact covered, and alllllll of the copybooks and folders as well.  The next new invention must be easy to use contact paper.
• Filled the following prescriptions for school:  4 inhalers, 4 epi-pens.  I dropped them off at school along with 4 spacers, a bottle of ibuprofen for Nikolas who gets migraines, a bottle of tylenol for Gabriel who has febrile seizures, a cafeteria note so Allegra isn't forced to drink milk - she's lactose intolerant, two bottles of Benadryl for allergic reactions, 4 allergy/asthma plans, 3 bags of cough drops.  All of this necessitated three different trips to the pharmacy.
• Had one individual teacher meeting, and two general grade specific meetings.  Attended one open house.  Went to a meeting with the two school nurses, to go over all of the medications in order to avoid last year's unfortunate fiasco.
• Called the pediatrician twice to get clearance for tylenol to be dispensed.
• Bought Wal-Mart out of paper towels, wipes, hand sanitizer, antibacterial desk cleaner and tissues. 
• Brought all of the above to school, in order to avoid each of my children carrying three bags to school on the first day.
• Killed about a jillion ants in my house, and called Orkin three times as to why the expensive stuff they've put down twice hasn't done anything.
• Washed every single item of clothing on the shelves in the master closet, due to the massive ant infestation.
• Took another trip (!) to school, when I discovered, after the fact that they were all covered, that my daughter had two religion books, an extra English book, and no spelling. 
• Took another (!) trip to school to pick up the workbook that Mackenzie left in her classroom.
• Realized, with the help of The Hubster's yelling gentle reminder, that I had forgotten to pay the property tax on the cars, adding $100 in penalties.
• Bought an extra booster seat for The Hubster's car, in the hopes that he can do at least SOME of the morning driving to school.
• Packed Gabe's backpack with his get to know me project, his permission slip, change of clothes, his parking lot tag, and his name tag.  Took another (!) trip to school to drop off closet snacks - foods safe for him to have if someone has a party or treat.  They are kept in the closet, thus the name. :)
• I also spent a day at my girlfriend's house, helping her out due to her illness.  I brought over chicken cutlet, spaghetti, sauce, bread, cake and veggies.  I did laundry and cleaned for her, and watched her kids so she could go to the doctor.
• Went and ordered new contact lenses, in clear, blue and green.
• Cleaned all the lunch boxes, bought pudding, applesauce, granola bars, chip packs and juice boxes in bulk.  I also bought bread, ham, peanut butter, jelly, fluff and soy butter extra.

I'm tired.  I think I'm done, except for the picture.  I've got to provide a small pic of Gabriel for his food safety plan.  I've been dropping into bed every night waaaayyy too late and getting up with Riley a few times a night, since she's decided she can no longer sleep without rubbing my skin for 30 minutes each and EVERY time she wakes.  I'm really tired.

But school starts Monday.  It's a half day, and then they go all day.  7:30 to 3.

Long LIve School!

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I didn't give the below letter to my neighbor.  I'm too nice for that.  I never do anything that could be interpreted as rude.  I just bottle it all in.  Although, my van DID get egged that night, so hmmm.  And, she looks through my mail when it's on the counter.  I'm just going to  back away from her slowly.

Leave 'em laughing, I always say

While dressing for church today, I decided to wear a longer dress than usual - one that graced the tops of my shoes.  It's sleevless, but perfectly modest.  A sheath type thing, brown with white leaves and such on it. It's a nursing dress, but I'm not nursing and it still fits and looks nice, so I keep it in the closet.

I went to church, and in one of the dumbest moves of my life, when arising from kneeling, my foot became tangled up in the hem.  To be more precise, it was the back of my sandal. I couldn't stand or sit, just hobbled around for a minute until the shoe gave away.

Or so I thought.

Later, I was walking in the hall towards the hospitality area, for my children's weekly donut and juice fest.  My mother was behind me and said, "Your slit in a bit revealing."  Um, no, my dress is fine, Mom.  I know that my mother doesn't like slits that are at all knee height or so, and that is how high mine was.  She promptly dropped the subject.

You know where this is going, I'm certain.

I walked through the coffee area, talking with friends.  I walked down to the cafeteria, where the blood drive was taking place.  The Hubster was donating, and I went to check on him.  I visited with priest donating blood, the nurses drawing the blood, and all of the donors.  I walked back down the hall, collected my children and came home.

I decided to check my backside in the mirror before I changed. When I saw what a wonderous sight met my eyes, I felt like throwing up.  There was my backside, fully exposed through the slit that now grazed the bottom of my bottom.  To further complicate matters, I was wearing a pair of Spanx - a panty girdle, with knee length legs.  Yes, the congregation got a lovely view of my cellulite cased inside lycra, much like a sausage in a casing.

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Last night, Riley almost fell down the outside stairs.  Mackenzie caught her just in time, and called out, "I caught her!  I saved her!"  And then she let her go.

(click to see the details)

Saturday fun, now with pictures

Today was the annual "Breakfast with the Animals", held at the zoo.   Of course, it was a toss up as to which ones were considered the animals, the ones inside the cages or the ones looking in. 

So, the kids went through the lines, and came back with the breakfast of champions:  boxes of Frosted Flakes - They're not good, they're GRRREEAAATTTTT!!! as Gabe said when he asked for the "cereal made by Kellogg's" - Froot Loops, mini blueberry muffins, apple and orange juice popsicles  cups of juice that had yet to defrost, sausage muffins, apples and bananas.  I chose not to partake of this meal, instead filling myself with the usual:

   It was about a jillion degrees outside, and in an effort to cool off, I stuck a cup of frozen juice between my boobs.  That worked really well, both to cool myself and defrost the juice.  We walked around and saw bunches of animals. I only took one picture, since the frozen juice had chilled my brain and I forgot I had a camera until it was time to go: 

Finally, my mother deemed it time to depart, and we drug ourselves to the entrance.  Where my children were promptly revived by the fountains:              

Even Riley got in on the act, except that she didn't want to actually get in the water.  Oh, and there's no Nikolas in these pictures, as he decided he didn't want to be seen with us and sat on the benches far away from us, reading his book and looking anywhere but in our direction.

On the way home, we decided that an ice cream cone would make everything better:   

Because I'm the kind of mother who lets children eat ice cream in the car. 

And one more picture, the best one of the entire summer:

School starts in 8!8!8! days.  Here are my kids, checking out the teacher lists.  The love I feel for what this picture represents cannot even be measured.

The mother you love to hate

Yep, that was me tonight.  I was the mother with the *screaming* child in the mall.

It started off so well, too.  Last week, in my Stride Rite trip, I bought Gabe new shoes for school.  He wore them two days and started complaining that they hurt his feet.  We all KNOW how I screwed up with Emma, so I promptly looked inside his shoe.  Where I discovered that his habit of wearing the shoe, just twice mind you, with the heel pressed under his heel, had caused the form of the shoe to break and it was rubbing his foot.  Um, $48, so not ok by me. 

I called for a replacement, and they were shipped in.  I took my nerves in hand, and packed up the yahoos for a trek to the mall.  I can do this, right?  Right?  Why would I want to?  Well, because I was trying to be nice.  The Hubster had received a bonus at work, making it possible to PAY!ALL!OUR!BILLS! and have a few bucks left over.  I (foolishly) thought I might get a couple of things for my kids, and pick up a baby gift as well.

We stopped for coffee, naturally, on the way and I bought the kids chocolate milks - their favorite treat there, since it has whipped cream on top.  We drove to the mall, where we slid into the covered garage and came face to face with a couple having a shouting match.  Yeah, THAT was fun.  Especially since the only space about to come open was right there.

So, we packed up - trying not to stare at the shouting match - and went into the mall.  We returned the shoes, and I walked the kids down to H&M.  The clothes for kids there are pretty cute, and cheap, and I knew I could get a good baby gift there.  I picked up a few things for Riley for the winter, and Gabe picked out a spiderman belt.  $5.90, yeah I can do that.  I also bought him the spiderman boxers, but he decided against the spiderman undershirt, which would have made him a great pair of pj's with the boxers.  The kids were all well behaved and polite, and I received several kisses for the new items purchased - a pink sparkly wallet for Allegra in particular.

We left the store, and went to the bathroom.  He wanted his belt on in the WORST way, and so he went into the stall to do it himself.  Alrighty, then.  A few minutes of struggle, and the tears began to flow.  The belt was too tight.  So, I made the (stupid, stupid) decision that we'd go back and get something else, as that was the only Spiderman belt. 

Except.  He wanted to look at EACH and EVERY thing in the store, and Riley was having NO part of it.  "I want that shirt.  No, let me look.  Maybe over here.  I saw something I liked on the wall back there..." I tried to show him the undershirt, knowing that later he'd be happy with it.  He's my kid, he loves pj's.  Nope.  Finally, with Riley screaming and throwing herself out of the stroller, I said, "Ok, we've gotta go.  Show me what you picked."  "I can't!  I didn't pick anything! I'm not leaving!"  And he stomped his foot at me and crossed his arms.

Blowing out my breath, I considered my options.  Should I stay or should I go?  Knowing what I had to do, I told Allegra to take the stroller, and I grabbed Gabriel.  Setting him on my hip - he's almost too big to do this - and dropping the belt back into my shopping bag, I walked out of the store at a fast clip, with him screaming and smacking at me.  I held his hands with mine, and began the trek towards the car.  Unfortunately, I had myself turned around and went the wrong way, and I didn't want to turn around and have him think we were going back, so I kept moving.  "NO!  I want to go back!  I want to pick something myself!  I don't WANT what you want!  Put me down!" I set him down to walk, and he promptly dropped to the floor.  "I'm not going with you!  I HATE YOU!!!!!"

Yep, he was screaming all of this at the top of his lungs.  Every person in the mall was staring at me.  I picked him up, slung him over my shoulder, and kept on moving to the van.  I felt every set of eyes on me.  I was that mother that we all see, the one who can't control her kids.  Humiliation, thy name is mine.

We made it to the van, I tossed him in, the rest of the kids got in quietly, and we left the lot.  I said not one word to him, and he cried all the way home.

Once he calmed down at home, we talked about it and made an agreement to go back on Sunday, just me and him, and pick out something he liked.  He said it's probably the Spiderman Undershirt.

Internet versus real-life

Not that life on the Internet isn't real, per se.

I'm just musing about something, and wondering if others who have blogs, or strong Internet personalities, feel the same.

I have friends here, in real life.  Friends who I go to lunch with, chat with at school, call on the phone.  Friends to discuss different things with.  The Hubster jokes that church takes us twice as long, as there as so many people that I want to talk with, or who want to talk to me. 

My closest friends, though, the ones I call when I have a crisis, or a miracle, live in other states.  Georgia, Illinois, Callifornia, Michigan, Kentucky, Alabama.  Other states too.  My blog, friends blogs and the board that I post on are my places to go to talk things through.

Are your close friends local, or Internet?

And am I a weirdo for having more friends in other states?  Or is that just what happens in this age of computers?  And, am I closing myself off to closer local friendships by focusing on my out of state ones?

OH!  While talking about friends, I keep forgetting to tell you this.  Tylenol PM is my good friend - I puffy heart it in a very special way.  While in Chicago last month, I discovered that the label now says NEW!  With Vanilla Coating! It is very good, in a way that only vanilla flavored pain meds can be.  And that is what my life has come to, the fact that I am thrilled that my medication tastes good.

Monday Musings - now with an updated link!

In no particular order:

- If Wilfred Brimley doesn't learn how to pronounce "diabetes" I may very well shoot myself.  I HATE those commercials he does for Liberty health.

- The mother at gymnastics today couldn't understand why her daughter was tired and didn't want to participate.  It may have, just may, had to do with the fact that she just came from tennis camp.  Three hours, outdoors in 98 degrees, and then straight to gymnastics.  Then to a one hour speech class. But she's not overscheduled.  Just bored.  Riiiggghhhhhttttt.

- Emma has learned to sing the ABC's, but sings "J K Emma N O P".  Too cute.

- I met with Gabe's teachers today, and feel very confident in their ability to deal with a anaphylactic/food allergic/animal allergic/asthmatic/febrile seizure child. I even volunteered to be the room mother.

- I can be classified as fat, and that makes me sad.  I used to be in extremely wonderful shape, and wear a much smaller size.  I have zippo desire to exercise, but hope to when it finally cools down here.

- I held a newborn baby today, and smelled him.  Oh, yum.  I love babies fresh from the oven.  I can see having a few more, just not right yet. 

- My new project, the one that I can't tell anyone about, was going well and now I've stopped.  I need to restart it. 

- Only two weeks until school starts.  My vow was to get the kids scrapbooks done during the summer.  Wow, did I slip on THAT one.  Not one page was done.

- The mother of a friend of my daughter's died this weekend.  She had been battling breast cancer for ten years - she had discovered it while nursing her daughter.  I last saw her at the end of the school year, and she had that look cancer patients get at the end.  I'm devastated for her children, but happy knowing that she is finally at peace. 

- My son went to confession this week, face to face with one of our priests.  When he left, he said, "I'm going to send my mom right in."  He couldnt' understand why I didn't go.  I'd prefer to confess in private, thank you so very much, son.

- The party for my mother went over well, the out of town company has left, and now it's just us. 

- The wall art came from this place. Great stuff, indeed. (I updated it, so try again!)

Feeling better Friday

Thanks so much for the advice, you guys.  I'm still really really really mad (gee, can you tell?)

But I've made a few plans.  I called my OT who agreed to help me out.  She's going to pull some peer review articles for me.  On The Hubster's next day off, or Sunday if they are open, I'm going to visit the local Big Medical College and do some research in their library.  My sister knows a few medical attorneys who she's going to put me in touch with.

I've called We Suck insurance, and requested all in house communications and all the information relevant to my case.  They have to provide this to me, and I left a message requesting this information ASAP. In fact, I think I'll call again now. 

I've called my pediatrician's office, and the office manager will help me with locating an attorney as well.

I'm GOING to fight this.  For God sakes, I'm not talking about doing a voodoo dance around my daughter, holding a bloody chicken.  I'm talking about medical therapy, therapy which has ALREADY shown to be a help, after just two months.  I'm talking about improving her quality of life, as well as the entire family.

I've already looked into Early Intervention, but at this time, it's not something I want to pursue.  I would have to pay a percentage, she'd be in group therapy, and she wouldn't receive the same therapist every week.  I don't want to have to start over every week, kwim?

There are other insurance companies that cover this - in fact, most of them do, so that will be a big selling point.  Asking point?  Whatever.

Thanks for your input.  Any other ideas?  Keep 'em coming.

I went out and bought new magazines, even though I have subscriptions that will probably arrive in today's mail, but I felt bad enough that I wanted my new reads NOW.  The dinner went well, I was praised for my cooking, my house was cleaned before AND after, I took a sleeping pill so my sleep rocked last night, and the school list came out and three of my kids got the teachers I wanted for them. 

So, it's looking up. 

But never cross me in getting care for my kiddos, as We Suck is about to find out.