Here we go again

Tad has yet another speech evaluation today.

This time, we are going to a specialized facility – meaning one dedicated to Tad’s age group, and they are going to give him a pretty standardized evaluation, as I understand it. He will actually have to qualify for their services by proving that he has a quantifiable verbal deficit, because this place gets both state and federal funding.

I also have to take his medical card (which just arrived Saturday – hallelujah!), his SSN, his immunization record, and a hefty amount of cash to get us started.

Just kidding about the cash part. But they do indeed ask for those other things, because if Tad does qualify for their services, they get to claim funding on his behalf and need his information to do so. Plus they want to bill the insurance and all of that stuff. Hmm. Maybe I should have the cash on hand.

Anyway, I am… ambivalent.

I am glad that we are going to have something standardized done. But I’m also extremely nervous about launching us back into this pressurized world of speech therapy. Quite honestly, I’ve liked not having to deal with all of the complications of therapy and driving Tad around to multiple appointments every week.

But we have to do something. Correction. I need to do something. Or else I will just continue to break down in tears every time I watch kids Tad’s age talk. I need to know that I have done everything possible to help him, even if it inconviences me and bothers me. This is about HIM.

Ane is going to be picked up at school today by Grandma, since the appointment starts while she’s in school and I have no idea how long it will take. I reminded her of that when I put her to bed last night – I have to prepare her for any change in her routine, because she doesn’t like spontenaity in her schedule unless it includes eating out, the park, or shopping. She’s fine with Grandma picking her up – she thinks it’s kind of cool – but she has to be told about it well in advance.

“Where are you going to be, Mommy?” she asked.

“I’m taking Tad to speech therapy,” I told her. She understands this, since she went to a couple of his appointments last fall.

“Why does Tad go to speech there?” she asked (she doesn’t say “therapy,” she says “there”).

“To help him learn to talk, sweetie.”

“He doesn’t talk much, Mommy.”

“No, he doesn’t. But he’s learning, and the speech therapy teaches him how to learn, and shows Mommy how to help him.”

Ane mulled this over. “Mommy, I don’t go to speech there.”

“Nope. You’re too much like Mommy,” I said, giving her a good-night kiss.

Now, I just have to believe that this will really truly do what I told Ane it would do for Tad.

This entry was posted on Monday, March 3rd, 2008 at 2:56 am and is filed under Children.
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