Code words

It's 5:20 a.m. and I have been awake for a couple of hours now. Coughing. My daughter was up coughing, too, for a bit but has settled down. I just peeked at her, in her pink footed PJs and her never-been-cut blond hair laying softly on the crib mattress, all around her sweet baby head. She is beyond angelic. Lately she has been "singing" and her vocabulary is advancing so rapidly that I can make out if she's trying to sing "Twinkle Twinkle" or if it's her 20-month-old rendition of "ABCs." My beautiful, smart, sweet talented girl.

Laying on the couch, coughing, I couldn't get my mind to quiet down. I was thinking about code words. In the type of work I do (PR) words are carefully selected. It's the opposite of journalism, my previous career, at times. Like, why say "ordinance" when you can say the simpler word, "law"? In journalism, you'd say "fire". Non-journalism -- layoff. Sounds nicer.

Here's another example -- "special needs" instead of "extreme stinkerbutt".

Yes. That fun little label was used recently by my 3-year-old's preschool recently. The back story: M  is a sweet, smart boy with dark blue eyes. When they pool up with tears and his lip quivers, it's a punch to my gut. When he smiles, like after when he's brushed his teeth and he gives an exaggerated grin to show me how clean all of his little teeth are, his eyes sparkle and my heart could just bust open, right there. He talks in full paragraphs now. He jokes around. He has a nickname for me, "Mommy Tommy," that cracks himself up.

And he also has some troubles with things -- some motor skills -- things like using silverware are tough. Apparently, his "core" strength is a little on the weak side. Transitions are tough. Napping is a nightmare, especially at a preschool that really, really, really wants kids to nap. Tantrums -- hoo boy. Not for the faint of heart.

The preschool has lots and lots of code words for how to handle these things. Supports. Resources. Tools -- as in "we want to find the right tools to help M be successful." Oh yes, "successful". Translated: "Stop being a stinkerbutt."

After a lot of push and pull by this activist preschool, we have M seeing a very enthusiastic occupational therapist, who is helping him with things like "sensory integration" (OK, I think that's one of things) and "self regulation" which is definitely got to be code for getting himself together, already! It seems like there is stuff he can legitimately use some help with, like strengthening his core, so he's not uncomfortable sitting still (and therefore making mischief) -- lord knows, who doesn't need a little help from time to time, no matter how old you are? It's important that he not fall behind, feel behind, be ostracized... be successful. Yup, just snuck in a code word.

After two appointments, however, our well-intentioned efforts were not enough. The school told us that now it was time to bring in a "consultant" -- code word in the business world for someone who is going to spy on your employees and upset the order of things. In preschool code, this means providing the teachers with "tools" and "supports" to help my little guy "be successful." I was sent a release form by the school three times. I ignored it, anxiety and defensiveness taking over. Enough with analyzing my kid already! He's only 3 years old! He loves ice cream and "Caillou" and his lovey! His favorite color, currently, is brown!

Finally I had the conversation with the preschool director. The conversation got a little heated on my end. Part of me found myself baiting her a bit -- I just wanted her to say "my teachers don't know how to handle extreme stinkerbutts". "Your son is very difficult and too much for us to handle at times." No, I don't really want to hear those things, of course. But every time I heard "our teachers need additional supports" and the reference to other children at the school who are pushed, er, I mean, encouraged to go into therapy of some kind, I wanted to yell "Argh!" Stop making me mentally translating everything you are saying.

And that's where the "special needs" label popped up. My pushy self got her to say something to the effect of, her teachers need additional "supports" for "special needs" kids.

Whoa.

Admittedly, this school is wonderful at many things. M is thriving there, difficulties notwithstanding. He loves it and asks to go on the weekends. He talks about his friends. He actually plays with friends now -- he used to play on the fringe, which worried me. I want him to be happy and loved.

I had to talk myself down a bit -- I had to recognize she used the word "special needs" more broadly than I think of it. It's like the time she wanted to bring a social worker in and my husband and I about had heart attacks. Social worker??? We are a loving family with no major issues. Why on earth would we need a social worker??? Turns out, "social worker" was a woman who works for the state whose sole job is to visit classrooms to observe difficult, er, kids who need extra supports to be successful... argh, I'm getting tired of trying to be clever with code words. Social worker diagnosis? Send him to occupational therapy. Yup.

(I should add here that his pediatrician has ruled out just about everything, declared M to be fine and normal, and made a passing reference that this is what preschools are supposed to do -- deal with kids.)

So special needs. I'm still rolling that one around in my mind. This weekend we had a playdate with a lovely friend of mine and her 5- and 3-year-old girls. It was the first time we'd met the other's children. It was so much fun and the kids played and played and had a blast.

A couple of hours after I was there, I told her the latest with preschool and asked her what she thought -- I know she's my friend, but she's very blunt. She was like, what the hell, as our kids played around us. It helped, a little, to know I'm not crazy. I'm not just some mommy who wears blinders, you know?

I know M needs some help here and there. I also know from raising a boy who is now 20 that kids go through tough phases. And they outgrow them. And go into new ones. And I know his school is great.

But can we just all agree that "stinkerbutt-itis" is what's really going on here?