Joey seems to be enjoying school. I plan, once the Christmas break is over, to try to arrang a morning when I can observe the class; I don’t really know what it’s like for him there, and it still feels weird to me not to be present for his speech therapy and so on.
Joey’s occupational therapy assessment happened, and the therapist rated him as doing very poorly in every measurable way . . . so I guess he will be getting OT. She also recommends that he get clinic-based OT, but I don’t think that will happen. I will ask his new worker at the regional center just as soon as we find out who that is. And if she (or he) doesn’t get in touch with us before Christmas, I’l just call the RC after the holidays and try to find out what’s going on.
Kit is also enjoying Joey’s time at school; he and I are going on play dates and outings, and he is getting me to himself for the first time in his life. The two of them are having more pleasant interaction with one another, playing gentle chasing games together. That has been lovely to see.
MY husband and I were talking about the family Christmas letter that my father will be writing; it has been yet another year of hard news. My father’s cancer came back and he went through radiation and also broke his hip a second time; my mother’s stepmother has been diagnosed with breast cancer; my brother is still waiting on his kidney transplant; Mr. Book and I are now in a long-distance relationship; and Joey was diagnosed with autism. But, I said to Mr. Book, Joey is so much happier than he was a year go. It was hard for us to understand how sad and angry he had gotten—and his increasing inability to communicate with us was obviously distressing to him. He has been getting real help since May, and is again the sunny, sweet boy we knew before his regression. Everyone he works with talks about what a happy, likable kid he is.
Kit, too, is better off than he was, now that I’ve identified his dietary sensitivities—and now that he can run and climb and talk. He is ridiculously charming, and less heedlessly adventurous than his brother, which I am perfectly happy with.
Cricket seems to be in a happier and healthier pace as well, from what I can tell. His parents are legally divorced, but Nora has brought more emotional stability to his life than I think had been present for some time before.
My mental health is worse than it has been in awhile, but I am able to hold on to a certainty that things will get better. I don’t know when, but I am sure that they will.