I hate high school! I hate high school! I hate high school! I hate high school!

How many more times do I need to say if for you to understand? School hasn’t even started and already you have your little cliques. There’s the jocks, the druggies, the bully’s, the geek’s, the wanna-be’s, the easy girls, the girls you’ll never have, 500 freshmen. And I could tell you what group 90% of them will fall into.

The ones my heart goes out to is the 200 out of 2,000 students that are in special education. Where do these kids fits in? Where do those in wheelchairs fit in?

Every school will tell you with a straight face that all of the students jus adore the special kids. Really? Have you ever been to high school?

I’ll admit that in Hampton Roads the kids are more accepted here than say, central Virginia. But that’s not enough. Where are the sporting events and the clubs for these kids? Who’s going to be there to protect them? To keep them from getting picked on. From getting bullied? Or laughed at? Okay, maybe my own high school fears are coming out but are things really that different?

My son is very popular and for all the right reasons. But, will it be enough in high school? Will his big blue eyes and wide smile really help him to make it through unscathed? And what will I do when he comes home and says, “I hate high school.” What will I do then?

500 kids and I barely knew one of them. Cheerleaders still make me uncomfortable. Chorus scares me. ROTC I’ve never understood. As for the clubs. Where does a developmentally delayed child fit into all of that?

I know for years special education students were segregated more so than any other population in history and I guess it’s god that the law pushes for them to become part of the community. But how do we educate the community? How do we control the community?

The transition meeting I went to at the high school turned out like every other meeting I’ve had in the past 4 months with the education department. It sucked!

Even though the flyer said 5:45 the email I got said 5:00. I showed up at 5:00 asked if the open house was tonight, the lady was very nice and proceeded to take me where I needed to be. She was very friendly. Then, you guess it, it happened.

I made the comment that I was surprised that with 2,000 students only about 50 cars were in the parking lot. The lady stopped dead in her tracks, did this little chicken neck head turn and said, “Exactly who are you?” To which I replied, “just a parent.”

Big mistake. This lady’s demeanor changed drastically and proceeded to tell me, “you are not suppose to be here till 5:45.” Smiling I said, “I thought so too. But my email from the assistant principal said 5:00.”

Then the powers to be troll got that look in her eye that said, “One, I don’t believe you because we do not make mistakes. Two, I’m going to mess (I prefer the f word here) with you because, “you’re just a parent.”

You might not believe me on that “you’re just a parent” statement. But, it is so true. When I’ve had to say it I feel like Miranda did on Sex and the City when she bought an apartment, she kept saying, “it’s just me.” And people would give her this horrible, little stare. When you’re “just a parent” you also get that stare.

I’ve learned that you could have wrote the book on special education (and yes I did write one eons ago) but you still have to be “just a parent” in order to get what you want. Because if they know that you know the same stuff and sometimes more than them they have a way of turning political. For example, and yes, this is a true story. I had a special ed director tell me that “the IEP does not decided placement.” Okay. And we don’t need air to breathe. After quoting just a tiny piece of the placement law she comes back and says, “I meant location. The IEP does not decide location.” Huh?! Did she stop and think about that comment before she said it. Unfortunately she did. It took her almost 12 hours to come up with it but she thought, “she’s just a parent, she’ll buy it.” I just looked at her when she said that. Why? I knew that if I opened my mouth that 4 months were of stuff was going to come flying out. Instead I bit my lip, never letting my eyes leave hers and just sit there as she struggled to correct her mistake. Why can’t these people just say, “I’m sorry.” “Look, I lied.” “I had to tell you that.” Anything is better than a lie. But, when you’re “just a parent,” they don’t care.

Oh God, its’ true! I have agoraphobia. When I was diagnosed with agoraphobia a few years back I thought the doctor was nuts. So okay, I have little anxiety fits when I’m in the back of a Wal-Mart. Then again, who doesn’t?

First of all, you can’t see outside all the way back there. Parking is a pain. And the lines are like those at an amusement park. If you can get in and out in less than 1 hour they should give you a gold star.

I would be shopping and all of a sudden I couldn’t breathe. My heart raced. I got sweaty and hot. I wanted to throw up and then things would start spinning and I’d go running. Everyone looking at me like I just stole something. (For the record, when you have a hot flash and start sweating, people also look at you as if you did something wrong.)

I had finally decided that my doctor was crazy, that is, until today. I am suppose to go to an open house for my son’s new school. Just the thought of it was making me had an anxiety attack and reaching for the Xanax. At first I thought it was because, it’s school. After all, who looks back on high school and says “Yeah. Those were fun times.” Almost no one.

Then I started thinking about when I have doctor appointments, I have the same kind of attacks. When I have a meeting, same kind of attacks. Just getting my hair done, same kind of attacks. “Oh God! I actually, truly have agoraphobia!” How? Why?

I just thought I had commitment issues. Actually, I still think I do, but we’ll explore that another day.

For today, I’m freaking about going back to high school. I freaking about there being lots of people. I’ll be in a controlled environment. I won’t know where I am during the tour. Thank God I have l lots of Xanax.

I met a lady. A mom to be exact. A mom of a special needs child. This mom made me go, “Wow!” I found out that she wrote her own letters of medical necessity, for her child, and others as well. I remember thinking, how? How could one do that when they’re not a physician?

Then it happened. Just like with everything else there is that defining moment when everything changes. Some for the better. Some for the worst. Luckily, mine was for the better.

I started writing my letters on behalf of my own son. And I, like that mom, would get the “wow” factor from other parents. Next thing you know, I was getting, “can you help me” request. So far I’m managed, knock on wood, to help anyone that has asked. And my suggest rate is “wow.”

I mention this because with school starting up in a week. Kids going to new schools. Parents becoming overwhelmed with all the changes. It’s just good to know that one day, you too, will provide someone with the “wow” factor.

I guess you could say that I’ve started my seasonal funk. I like the way my house looks at nighttime. I like nothing better than to work at night. The light from my computer is enough to allow me to do my job, which unfortunately, includes reading letters of medical necessity from doctors. Actually, I’ve found that I can read them better at night, with the light of my computer screen.

Maybe it's the moonlight.  Maybe it's the street light.  Maybe it's that I can't see how many piles are in my office.  Maybe it's just that at night, when everyone else is asleep, I can just work in peace.

Do you like being on the computer at night or during the day? Do you like your house better at night, or during the day?

The past few days the ‘net and newspapers have been talking about how God decides who lives and who dies. Believing in miracles.

I believe God brought a little baby back to life yesterday. The child was pronounced dead during the delivery. When the parents picked up her dead, cold (she had been put in the refrigerator waiting for burial) body, the blanket started moving. The baby was alive.

She is currently in ICU and the docs are waiting to see how long she lives.

Believe in miracles?

Been part of a miracle? Let me know.

President Bush said today that, “hope is coming back to New Orleans.” With the help of $126 billion in disaster aid that poured in (over 3 years of course.)

Has he been to New Orleans? Not just fly over it, actually go there and walk around.

New Orleans has been in shambles since 2005. That’s 3 years!!!! 3 years!!!!

The place is far from being completed. The only hope one can have living in New Orleans is that the next president is better than this one.

This is the most honest I’ve ever been with you and probably will ever be. I am depressed! Not your usual, I can’t get out of bed, don’t want to go out, leave me alone depressed. Depressed in a way that nothing can change it.

My oldest son, he’s 15, is in a wheelchair and has cerebral palsy and a developmental delay. Now what you don’t understand is that this kid is charming. Very charming. People love him (with the exception of one fiery relative.) Everybody know this kid. And to top things off we went to a fashion show last week and one of the designers wants him for her catalog.) Not bad huh?!

Today we went to the mall. And of course people were checking him out. Mostly kids his age and younger. The problem is the way people do it. They do this rubbernecking stare. I’ve gotten where I stare at them back and wait for them to ask, “What’s your problem?” To which I reply, “You (or your child as the case is so many times) is staring at my son so I thought I’d stare at you.”

People listen up. If you see someone in a wheelchair, don’t stare! It’s rude! And tell your kids the same thing.

Well, my son kept pointing out all of the girls that were, checking him out. Yes, some of them were looking and smiling but none spoke. All I kept thinking is, he goes to high school next week, people, please be nice to him. Please give him a chance. Don’t let the wheelchair fool you. He can still dance, sing, kiss, hold hands and go to movies. Please Lord, help him. These thoughts were running through my head because on more than one occasion he’s said, “I wish I had a girlfriend.” He wants that first kiss, that first girl that wants to hold hands as they proceed through the mall. And I want him to have it.

His back has been hurting him for about a week now. He swears that one of the screws holding in his rods has come out. He’s asked to relatives to visit him at the hospital. He’s usually right when he has a feeling. I pray this time he’s wrong. But, with his back hurting he’s needed some extra assistance with transfers, sitting up, sitting in the wheelchair, sitting up in bed, etc. And all I keep thinking is, will he ever be able to live on his own? To be able to transfer from the bed to the wheelchair. To need less assistance. It scares me. The thought of having to depend on someone to go from point a to point b, for the rest of your life is scary. Really scary.

I want him to have a life that’s he happy with, where he can do things on his own. I have no problem with him spending the rest of his life living with me, I just want him to be able to go places and do things without me. Let’s face it, having mom or dad around all the time is not fun. Even though I have had my fair share of friends that still live with their parents even though some of them are now in their 30’s, 40’s and 50’s.

Right now I’m scared to let him go to the mall without me. What if his wheelchair breaks down? What if he falls over in the wheelchair? What if someone robs him? Picks on him? Hits him? All of these horrible images are constantly going through my mind.

If I didn’t have insomnia already I’d definitely have it now. I just wants things to be right. That’s all. Just right.

I’ve said my prayers to God, asking him to take care of everything. But, for some strange reason I feel that I need a backup plan. The problem is I don’t know what that plan is.

If you have experienced anything like this, please let me know. If you have advice (that applies) let me know. And if you know of a good shrink, let me know that too. I think I’ll need one when high school starts.

I don’t know about you but I really don’t feel sorry for Freddy, Fannie and the other banks. Why? Have you seen the cost of things these days. I’m surprised anyone can keep a job, a house and a car. We won’t even get into food, child care, health insurance and back to school stuff.

I honestly don’t see how people are making it these days. Me being one of them. A person is lucky to bring home $2200 a month. But $2200 doesn’t go far.

Bush wants to help the banks out what about the poor people that are loosing their homes due to the state of the economy. Where’s there financial assistance? Why can’t we help out our own people? Why should families loose their homes? Shouldn’t our government help them?

I do agree with the government when they say, “the worst is yet to come,” you have no idea. I’ve seen people struggling with the back to school stuff. My kids will not get new clothes and shoes to start school this year. We just can’t afford it.

How is your family handling the economy crisis? Did your back to school shopping change dramatically? If so, let me know. If you’re doing great, then let me know what you do.