I’ve got so much going on worth writing about, that I haven’t been able to write.

Hubby was gone all week last week, traveling for his really great new job in the media. It’s the job he imagined as a child, what he pretend- played with a drumstick microphone and a cardboard box TV set in his rec room basement. It’s fantastic, wonderful, great, and we’re 100% supportive.

But last week did kind of suck.

Both kids’ sleeping is totally on the fritz. We went from a solid, predictable night-night routine to a mess. I think it started to fall apart on our vacation last month, what with late-night puking in hotel rooms (see previous blog post) (I’m too tired to even set up a link to it).

So I had Babyboy up at 3, 4 a.m. most nights… He’d toddle out of his bed and I’d find him crying in the hallway. He’d be all anxious and incoherent, like he’d had a nightmare. It got to where I was afraid he’d toddle right down the stairs. I could rock him ’til he soothed and got sleepy, but that would take 20 minutes. No, when the alarm clock is going to go off at 5:20 a.m., it’s just easier to bring him into bed with me.

I know, I know. This sets up a pretty bad habit. That’s how it begins, right? Then you’ve got a kid in your bed until they’re like, five.

Well, so be it, I needed that extra 20 minutes of sleep.

But then Babygirl. She was up a few nights screaming as well. I could sit there and listen, and I did that once, but that woke up Babyboy, and then I had both of them to calm. No, I ended up getting up and trying to rock and soothe her back to sleep, but no go. “MILKIE MILKIE MILKIE” she screamed. And so we went back to getting up and getting the bottle.

Ugh. Not good. Really slipping back to bad habits.

Hubby is back and doesn’t have any long trips for a few weeks, and we have a goal of re-establishing order. And catching up on sleep, the both of us.

Babyboy just finished his 8 week summer session at the local public school. This was the special ed pre-k program we were so so so anxious about getting into. He is autistic, and Early Intervention ends at age 3 (on the dot); with his birthday falling at the end of June we were afraid he wouldn’t have any official behavioral/ speech therapy until the Fall.

But our local school system came through in a big way, and his first day of school was the first day of summer session, or “Extended school year” as they call it. He was in a little class of kids aged 3-5, all of whom will be in his classroom this fall as well. They’re adorable. Of course we would drop him and pick him up and wonder what everyone’s diagnoses were… Some were obviously Down syndrome, others were obviously also autistic. It’s a small group, and he seemed to really enjoy every day. He would often hold hands with this one little girl. She would see him coming and stop and wait for him, and hold his hand all the way down to the classroom door. Adorable.

Of course there is so much there to reflect about… In our town, all the “normal” kids’ first day of school is the first day of kindergarten. I know from watching our neighbors that there’s a big deal with a family orientation party and all the kids get T-shirts that say Kindergarten or something, I’m not sure, but I do remember thinking of the Animal House T-shirts that said “College”.

But Babyboy’s first day of school was the first day of this summer extended year program, and all the other kids had already been enrolled, so everyone else knew where to go and what to do, and there was no special orientation. Hubby dropped him off, but he wasn’t sure where to go, and ended up at the wrong door of the school, and had to be redirected, and then he hung around for just a few minutes and left Babyboy playing in this new surrounding.

And Babyboy did fine, and he’s loved it. We’re grateful, but we are aware that it’s probably the first of many things that we get to do a little differently from all our neighbors’ kids.

Work’s been interesting. We have a longtime colleague, one of the founders of our practice, who is leaving for a very good reason, and we all admire her and are happy etc etc. BUT she is leaving a large, mostly aged and complex patient panel, and we are all absorbing this as best as possible. This week I saw one of her longtime patients in followup, and after that one meeting and an x-ray, I had to call this patient and tell her she likely had cancer.

That sot of defines the week in clinic; many sort of heavy encounters, many sort of uncomfortable conversations.

There’s more to hash out and mull over… I volunteered at our town’s food pantry last weekend, overall a positive experience but definitely something to write about. I made it back to our animal shelter and had another weird and not entirely productive session, not sure how much more time I will give to them, though the animals sorely need some dependable helpers.

But, the kids are asleep, and I will be soon as well. Hoping no one wakes up in the middle of the night, and hoping we can do the right, firm, sane thing if they do…