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Let's see what comes out of THIS. Late, late, late. Tired. Sugar hopped, and my pathetic excuse of a diet has spiraled down the toilet. Again. Today has been tough. Chance came home early again today, but this is the first time that the threat of having to stay in bed worked. I* asked the nurse when he did it, and she said that he usually came in about 9:30, then again after lunch. I wonder when they get snacks? I quizzed him as hard as I could about how his stomach hurt, and where it hurt, but the nearest I could get out of him was that it was some sort of cramp. He managed to stay in his bed for about an hour. I gave him a great rendition of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf", and it remains to be seen if that will have any effect.

*Ginger has a cold in her eyes, so she stayed in bed today, and I stayed home to watch Paxton. And, as it turns out, get Chance out of school. And, as it turns out, take him to OT.

This OT session was hard in a lot of ways. I wanted Chance to do well, and he did... kind of. It's painful watching him throw a ball. I could see him getting wilder and wilder. Two other kids came out, apparently also in need of some sort of social, I don't know, call it "adaption". Chance was the youngest, and I suspect one of the better off. The other two seemed even more withdrawn than Chance. I found out later that the boy, who appeared about 7 or 8, was blind in one eye. All of them were very uncoordinated and shy. I don't want Chance to be in this kind of group. I feel angry at him for not listening, not being polite, not trying. I feel guilty because I'm learning that it's not his fault, and that it could be much much worse.

I feel scared because I don't know if it's my fault, my nature or my nurture.

How did this happen? In less than six months Chance has gone from being a normal boy to having three therapy sessions a week: OT, PT, and ST. He was out of school for nearly two months. He's had a GI scan, two swallowing exams, neurology exams, and occupational and physical therapy exams. He's been to the school clinic twice a day for the last two or three weeks for "stomach cramps", asking to come home. I found some of his old school papers in the basement, and I think that his writing may be worse now than it was at the end of last year.

I've been reading the book Ginger recommended, "The Out-of-sync Child". It's reassuring in some ways and scary in others. I don't think that he fits into these blocks as neatly as Ginger does. What does that mean?

I am angry at the children who shut him out, angry at the brutality of their honesty. I wonder if this has been growing and growing, and we let the familiarity of good report cards lull us into complacency. We wondered that he didn't seem to have school friends this year like he did last year, but didn't put a lot of stock in it. His teacher says he does fine, and I trust her. Sort of. Twenty-two kids in his class works out to about 20 minutes a day per kid. Sure, he's quiet and smart in class, but class isn't what I'm worried about. It's lunch, where he sits by himself and no one talks to him. It's recess, where he ends up playing Calvin-ball. I worry that he's worse about this than I am, and I was pretty damn lame.

I worry.

I'm sorry we ever got him that damn GameCube.

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