Being a Mom is Hard.

On Friday I brought my son to the school district for an early childhood "screening". Zane had been receiving early intervention from the Brighton School since last year at the request of a developmental psychologist, but Brighton's services stop at age three. If he qualifies, the local school district will pick up the services starting on his birthday. Our main concern for Zane has always been his language, and we really feel that since he started with daycare and has been around other children, his language development has accelerated. His articulation hasn't always kept up, however. There are still times when I have NO idea what the heck that boy is saying, and I know that he probably thinks that I'm an idiot. He's probably right.

Based on Zane's behavior during the screening, which included climbing on tables, overturning tables, and generally causing mayhem in the play area, they asked to see Zane as soon as possible. Which turned out to be today.

On Saturday Zane was invited to a birthday party for Davis, a little girl that he knows. It was at the Children's Museum in New Braunfels. They have a neat setup with wooden trains that Zane is absolutely gaga over--the last time we were there that was ALL he would play with, for the entire hour. This time was no different--when it was time to go for the party, Zane had what is known as a conniption fit. We got him into the room where the party was and finally got him settled down with some cake.

Keep in mind that none of the other kids were having hissy fits about having to leave what they were doing to come have cake, and that these kids were all around Zane's age. So my son stood out like a sore thumb, and I could feel lots of eyes on him. He did sing "Happy Birthday", had some cake, and some lemonade. Larry left to go put our spare tire on the car, since right as we pulled into the parking lot our rear tire blew out.
So I sat in one of those little tiny kid's chairs with Zane, while the other kids were able to sit at tables by themselves, and I watched Davis open her presents. Zane's attention wandered, as it usually does, but at least he stayed seated.

Suddenly Davis pulled out a pink little toy train. Zane zeroed in on that and takes off for the front. The train had been put on the counter, within easy reach, and Zane went right for it. Everything was happening in slow motion for me. I told Zane, "That is not your train." I got to the front of the room as fast as I could, considering that I was sitting in one of those tiny chairs.

He disagreed vehemently and ran into a corner, screaming, "MINE!!!!" I had to stay calm on the outside, but inside my heart sank. I managed to get the train away and pick Zane up. He promptly smacked me a couple of times in the face, but to my credit I didn't drop him. I took him back to the back of the room and he continued to wail. As soon as he could convince me to let him down, Zane ran off, out of sight, straight back to the trains.

I can't describe to you the feeling when you realize just how different your child is from normal. Intellectually I know that it's possible that Zane is developmentally behind his peers in some areas. Emotionally I am trying to wrap my brain around the possibility that something else might be going on. Because the behavior my son exhibited on Saturday is not the kind of behavior that will get him through kindergarten, or the rest of life, in a happy manner.

So this morning Zane and I went back to the school district and while I filled out about four questionnaires about behavior, the speech pathologist and the LSSP(school psychologist) tried administering several different batteries to Zane. Usually I am the one giving the various batteries of tests, so I generally tried to ignore everything going on over there. The adults were smart and blocked Zane in so he couldn't run off, but it eventually ended up requiring both of them to sit beside Zane and give him immediate feedback to get him to respond to just about everything.

We have to wait for the results. Darn it. I want to know now. All this has been extremely difficult for me for some reason. Okay, not for 'some' reason. It's been hard because I want my son to be okay, whatever that means.