On Friday afternoon I found myself running late after a doctor appointment, rushing home to make sure I didn't miss Cordy's bus. She is dropped off at our door, and if we're not there to get her off the bus, they will only wait so long before driving on to the next stop. In our school district, that means you then have to pick up your child from Children's Services, which no one wants to do.

I got home right at the time she's scheduled to get off the bus, which is actually never the time the bus arrives. It has never arrived at that time - it's usually coming around the curve about five or ten minutes later. I left the front door open to wait for her bus. Five minutes pass. Then ten. At this point I'm starting to wonder if I was too late. But I know her bus driver well enough to know that she'd wait at least five minutes if she happened to get here on time. Where was that bus?

Another ten minutes passed, and just as I was beginning to panic and consider calling the school district to ask where I need to go to get Cordy, I hear the bus coming down the street. And then I see it slowly inching along, pausing at each address, and coming the wrong direction. Ah, it's a substitute driver today. Now I know why she's late.

I immediately started to walk out the door toward the bus. I noticed an aide on the bus moving around and doing something, all while Cordy sat in her seat and waved to me from her window. As I crossed in front of the bus to get to the bus door, a taller child in a blue coat suddenly met me around the corner, smiling. This bus carries a lot of children with varying special needs, and this boy didn't seem to notice or care that this wasn't his house and I wasn't his mom.

I peeked up into the bus, looking at the smiling driver and aide. "Have a good afternoon!" the aide yelled to me.

"WAIT!" I yelled back before the door could be closed, "This isn't my kid."

The aide and driver looked at each other with an amused look. "What?" they laughed. I guess they thought I was making a joke.

"This isn't my kid," I said more insistently. "THAT is my daughter," I growled, pointing to Cordy who was sitting right behind the driver. Cordy was still smiling, also probably thinking this was all a joke.

The aide immediately looked puzzled and yelled for the boy to get back on the bus, quizzing the boy, "Well, why'd you get off the bus if this wasn't your stop?"

At this point the driver appeared to have a moment of intelligent thought with the revelation, "Oh, so that's why she was saying 'Mommy! Mommy!' when you were walking to the bus." Um, yeah, ya think? I suppose that would be why she was saying that. Is the school district that desperate for substitute bus drivers that they'll hire anyone off the street?

Finally, the aide unbuckled Cordy and helped her down the stairs. I held Cordy in my arms as the aide and driver again tried to laugh about the mix-up. I glared at them and walked away, holding onto MY daughter.

It wasn't funny. It was dangerous, it was careless, and it shouldn't happen. Were I not all the way to the bus, they could have let that boy off and drove away before I could object. And who would they have given my daughter to? Cordy likely would have reacted the same way the boy did - she trusts adults, and probably would have willingly stepped off the bus, even knowing it wasn't the right stop.

The district will be getting a call from me on Monday, urging them to make sure their substitute drivers are more careful about making sure special needs kids get to the right home safely. Some kind of safety procedure needs to be in place so that each child is matched up to the right address. I don't care if it's a seating chart or names on the seats or some other plan - a simple list of addresses and names isn't enough.

I was worried that I had missed her bus. But being given the wrong child really scared me. I want to know my daughter will get home safely each day, and I want to trust that her bus driver will take her to the right address and only let her leave when one of her parents is there to take her hand.

Here's hoping her regular bus driver will be back this week.

Give me a daughter facing the challenges of autism, and I rise to the challenge. Or give me a daughter with a speech delay, and I fearlessly jump in to start early intervention with complete confidence she'll triumph.

But give me a kid with a hacking cough and a fever of 103.5 who looks this miserable:

...and I'm a puddle of worry.

I'm often impressed with how Cordy and Mira remain so healthy. Sure, they get colds about as often as any other kid, but they are most often minor colds and rarely slow them down. Fevers are always minor - just a little warm, no need for medication. And we've had plenty of stomach bugs, but other than the unpleasantness of cleaning up blow-out diapers, they weren't too bad.

And then Mira's cough began on Sunday. By yesterday it was a constant, fierce cough that forced her to catch her breath after a coughing fit, along with a fever. She spent last night coughing and crying in her sleep, and I was unable to do anything to make it easier for her.

This morning she slept in, something she rarely does. And then she refused breakfast, something she never does. She didn't want to play or watch TV - she only wanted to rest her flushed little face against me. Her temp was 103.5.

So I took her to the pediatrician, where I was given few answers: It's probably not strep. It's most likely viral, either a throat infection or the flu. No antibiotics for now. Nothing to do at this point but give her ibuprofen round-the-clock on schedule, keep her hydrated, and wait it out.

Wait it out. Sounds so simple, and yet...

Today she didn't fight her nap for once, and she didn't pick fights with her sister. She spent a lot of time on me instead of playing with her trains. She's not herself, and I don't like that.

Many parents have kids that run fevers like this all the time, and are probably so used to it they would laugh at my hand-wringing and worry. I've advised several parents on how much ibuprofen to give and signs/symptoms to watch for, however it's always different when it's your kid. This is mostly new to me, and feeling the nape of my smallest child's neck on fire, even with ibuprofen and Tylenol in her, leaves me feeling helpless.

I'm hoping she'll wake up tomorrow a little less warm, a little more energetic, and a little closer to putting this behind us. If not, I'll be right here to provide ibuprofen, refill juice cups, and provide a comfortable lap to cuddle on. I'm thankful to have a job with sick time so I can be home with her when she needs me the most. Because it's not my nursing skills that are being used here -  it's being her mommy that magically helps her feel better.

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Also, I'm proud to announce I'm one of several talented writer for the new Ohio Moms Blog! (Part of the amazing SV Moms Group.) Stop by for a visit, and be sure to check out my first post there, where I am once again performing amazing feats of hand-wringing.

It seems to sneak up on me every year, but today is yet again the Official Delurker Day, the once-a-year plea for those of you who quietly read to write one little comment of support. (Or even if you do comment, please say hi also!)

It's hard to believe I've been blogging now since 2005, and it's even harder to know that I don't get to do it as often as I used to. There was a time when I really cared about my stats and would religiously follow them each day, looking to see which posts got the most attention and trying to guide my writing towards more like those. Since starting my crazy job working the night shift, I've had way less time, and significantly less brain power, to devote to blogging. As a side effect, I've also lost my obsession with my stats. I know less people come by here now, and that's OK. (Even if Mom 101 named me one of her Top 50 Mommybloggers that didn't make the Babble top 50 mommybloggers list and are probably more fun anyway. Also? There's some awesome blog reading in that list.)

So while I may not write as often now, I still come back because I want to interact. I love it when others read and enjoy what I write, and I love finding new people who share my interests. I feel bad that I don't get to interact with my readers as much as I used to.

(And let's not talk about the backlog in my Bloglines. If I comment now on a post you wrote two months ago, take it as a compliment that I really wanted to comment, even though it took me that long to read it.)

However, just because I'm not writing or interacting as often doesn't mean I have less appreciation for my readers. I'd probably still be here writing even if I was just talking to myself, but thank you for coming back and taking an interest in my life. I truly do appreciate it, and I value the friendships that have developed from this little corner of the internet. Thank you all for keeping me sane.

(And for putting up with the extraordinary number of parentheses in this post. Apparently half of my thoughts are really asides or after-thoughts.)

So if you have a moment in your busy schedules today (or whenever you read this), drop a quick comment in and say hi.

And one more thing - if you're even more moved to do so, delurk in the world community and make a difference to the people of Haiti after that devastating earthquake. Donate to the Red Cross - even $1 helps - or if you can't, use your blog or Twitter or Facebook to get the word out to others, asking them to help. The people of Haiti have already undergone a tremendous amount of poverty and hardship before the earthquake, and they need our assistance more than ever now.

Edited to add: I've now added a button on my sidebar that lets you donate to the Red Cross for the Haiti relief effort. All donations go directly to the Red Cross.

I wanted 2010 to be the year of everything awesome. And so far, it's not too bad. In fact, today kind of feels as far from 2009 as it could possibly be.

After a year and a half of unemployment (aside from a four-month contract job), Aaron started a new job today. It's only a three-month contract for now, but the plan is to hire him on as a full employee at the end of the contract. Basically, the contract is his trial period. His first day went well: the job is creative and challenging and his coworkers are friendly and welcoming. I'm hoping it works out and he'll be happy with his work.

As a result of his new job, we had to juggle our childcare situation. Aaron will be working traditional office hours, and while I work nights, we still need someone to cover on the days when I've worked and need to sleep. Cordy's in school full-time, but Mira had only been in preschool two half-days a week.

So today Mira went back to her school, but into a new classroom. She's attending three full days a week now, giving me a chance to sleep more, and giving Mira what she wants - the chance to spend more time at school. (The other days will be covered by a friend and family.) At two-and-a-half, Cordy hated being outside of the house, and would have fought going to preschool each day. But Mira, our little socialite, loves school and would complain when we picked her up each day.

I worried that a full day schedule might be too much, even for Mira, but when I picked her up at 5:15pm, she responded to seeing me with, "I don't wanna go home." Apparently she had a fantastic day, and is thrilled to go back again tomorrow. All is well with the changes in her schedule.

OK, nothing much has changed for Cordy. Other than she will now be sent home with homework starting this week. Homework? In pre-K? School has changed a lot since I was a kid.

As for myself, I've got a few days off right now and I'm finding myself happy to be more involved in directly caring for my girls again. Since starting work, I've been on the periphery at home, with Aaron taking on the bulk of childcare while I have waffled back and forth between being a day walker and a child of the night. Adjusting my schedule back and forth is terribly hard, leaving me feeling like a shell of myself at home with my family.

But with Aaron working now, I have to step up and force myself to be more involved again - and I like it. I like being the one preparing lunch, doing the school drop-off routine, reading with Cordy, playing games with both girls, etc. I missed doing all of that. Well, maybe not all of it, but a lot of it. We'll see how things go once I'm back to work later this week. I hope I'll be able to find some inner strength to be everything to everyone without cracking.

Even our house got a little update today. Thanks to an awesome Black Friday deal, we got a new microwave. Our current one is on a little stand taking up way too much room, and I wanted something above-the-range so I could replace that little stand with a pantry. Today, part one of that plan was accomplished:

Before:

Um, yeah, ignore the mess around the range.

After:

Shiny! Pretty!

So yeah, let's keep 2010 moving right along on this positive wave, OK?

Just before Christmas, Cordy finished the first ten week segment of the clinical research trial I took a gamble on earlier in the fall. The study offered us the chance at parent training in behavior modification and/or a medication that can help attention-deficit symptoms in children with autism. In our case, we were randomly selected for the medication-only group, not knowing if we had the actual medication or a placebo.

At the end of ten weeks, the results were less than encouraging. Cordy's behavior was practically unchanged. Still unfocused. Still unstoppable energy. Still struggling to finish a task without becoming distracted. But there were a few small changes that showed a glimmer of hope. In that ten week period, she stopped hitting herself, and although she switched to verbally abusing herself instead, it was still an improvement. We also noticed a slight decrease in the amount of "flapping" she does, too.

So did we have the medication? If we had the medication, I felt it was a big, fat failure. I mean, I wasn't expecting miracles in a pill. I knew it could help calm Cordy and help her focus so she could accomplish more, but I knew it wouldn't turn her into a typical kid. But I was expecting a little more than a couple of stray behavior changes.

At our last meeting, the doctors in the study looked through all of the data and determined Cordy was a non-responder. As a result, the seal was broken to find out the truth: it was the placebo.

I was a little disappointed that I forced Cordy to go to weekly visits, endure two blood draws (not fun for anyone involved) and take a lot of pills for no benefit. But honestly, it wasn't that bad. Cordy quickly loved going to "the office" as she called it. She loved "her work" and the student assistants who work there became her willing slaves. All of the staff have been incredibly kind to her. While at each meeting, she was given an unlimited supply of organic fruit snacks, animal crackers, juice, toys, markers and adoring fans. Hell, I kinda wish I got all that stuff instead of a big stack of papers to fill out each week.

But it doesn't end there. That was just part one of the study. Knowing that she was on the placebo, we are now entering the open-label phase of the study, allowing her to start all over with the actual medication this time. (Those who were on the medication in phase one are allowed to continue on the medication for phase-two.) The dose will be increased ever-so-slowly and we'll watch her closely for any improvements as well as any side-effects.

I'm back to being excited at the possibilities and yet again a little nervous about medicating my daughter. Only this time I know for certain it's the real thing. We'll see what happens.

To end on a cute note: I was told by Cordy's teachers today that all of the boys in her class are in love with her. Not just love her - are actively IN LOVE with her. They've been back from winter break for just two days now, and apparently the boys pester Cordy all day with, "Do you still like me, Cordy?" She's the queen of the classroom, with five little boys willing to do anything for her. I love that about her - despite her social difficulties, she has an aura that attracts people to her, even without trying or encouraging them in any way. It's an amazing gift to have.