Earlier this week I sacrificed my morning sleep time for Cordy's annual IEP meeting. (If you're not a special-needs parent or don't understand the letters, the link provides more info.) These meetings always stress me out. I trust her teachers to give accurate information on Cordy's abilities, but I always worry that they're not pushing her hard enough or we're not pushing hard enough to get more services for her. But then I worry if I set up unrealistic expectations that Cordy will fail and suffer as a result.

So I always arrive at these meetings conflicted and nervous. Add in 20+ hours of no sleep (from working the night before) and I probably looked like a crack addict at this meeting.

It started with her teacher telling us that Cordy is incredibly smart. This was the running theme of the entire meeting, so get ready to hear it a lot in this post. She's testing at a 1st grade level for reading and executing 2nd grade level reading work in the classroom. Her math skills are advanced. She's getting individual instruction in her special-needs classroom and is attending a mainstream kindergarten classroom for a few hours at a time three days a week.

Social skills, of course, is where the problem lies. She can be disruptive and shriek or scream if she has to do something she doesn't want to do. She has trouble transitioning from one activity to another. And she's not very good at making friends - she sometimes gets confused and doesn't know what to say when talking to other kids.

When it came to planning out academic goals, the teacher had none in mind because she's already well beyond her kindergarten curriculum. I pointed out that if Cordy is doing so well, it's my goal that she continue to be pushed academically - to stay ahead of the curve. If she has trouble socially, I'd rather her at least be advanced academically so she has something to keep her self-esteem up.

The mainstream kindergarten teacher came to the meeting as well, and told us that Cordy is doing great when she's there. We knew this, though - Cordy always tells us how much she likes going to that room, and describes having good dreams at night of getting to visit that class.

Of course, one goal I wanted to see in her IEP was more mainstream time. They said they would work on that gradually, and committed to start including her in art class with the mainstream class. They're also going to try letting her sit with the other kindergartners during lunch - this is a big deal because there are no adults sitting at the table, so she'd be on her own in an unstructured social minefield. I suggested that they arrange to let her sit next to one of the kids she knows, so at least she doesn't feel surrounded by strangers.

Finally, the principal of the school joined us at the end of the meeting. She again told us how impressed they are with how smart Cordy is, and mentioned that they would like to explore the possibility of formally testing her for the gifted ed program. The challenge for this is that Cordy must test without any accommodations - no extra breaks, etc - or the scores won't count. This is problematic because Cordy doesn't have a lot of patience for being tested. She likes to do schoolwork, but she hates having to prove what she knows.

The principal said they could seek an exception to have independent testing done in place of the standardized testing. Then the testing could be done on her own time, in her own way, and with people she's comfortable around.

It all sounded great, but then I asked what sort of programs they had for gifted students. (Assuming she tested into gifted, which is not a guarantee.) They told us that due to budget cuts and new state guidelines, they actually don't have any gifted ed programs until fourth or fifth grade. What's the point of rushing to get her tested then?

The only truly frustrating part of the meeting (other than my trying to stay awake) was the realization that even if she's fully mainstreamed next year, they still aren't sure what to do with her. Should she be in a mainstream first grade class, she'll likely be ahead of the curriculum for reading and math. Keeping her in the class for these subjects would be letting her down academically, but sending her up a grade for these subjects might then introduce more problems with transitioning and new situations that could get her put back into a special-needs class.

There doesn't seem to be an ideal situation. OK, well, I suppose there's homeschooling or a private Montessori school, but those require either me to not work as much or us to make a lot more money, respectively. At the moment, both options are not available to us.

It probably wouldn't upset me as much if I didn't partially understand what Cordy is facing. I was never in a special-needs class, but I did test into gifted ed as a kid. I had to go up a grade level for reading class, and I hated feeling out of place with the older kids. In my own class, I was constantly bored and I had trouble connecting with my peers. The only time I ever enjoyed elementary school was the one day a week I got to spend in the gifted education class. I was in a much smaller class, I was challenged, and I genuinely liked the coursework and the other kids I was with. But that gifted ed program started in second grade, not fourth. If I had to wait until fourth grade, I might have been a lost cause by that point.

Part of going to school is learning to put up with other people and situations you don't always like. But I can't imagine that every kid felt the same as me in school, and I don't want my daughter to go through that as well. If she's as smart as they believe she is, she's going to need a lot of support to stay challenged and interested in school. Aaron and I can provide some of that at home, but we can't be at school with her every day.

So the meeting generally left me feeling even more uncertain about Cordy's education. There's a lot of good going on, and quite a lot of possibilities, but just like my daughter I want something a little more concrete. There are some good options, but if there's an ideal option, I'm not seeing it at the moment.

To sum up: I've got a smart, socially-awkward little girl who doesn't fit the system. I think we can all now agree that she is most certainly MY daughter.

I am the voice of calm in the middle of the night for many new moms.

When they're up at 3am with a crying, fussy baby, I'm awake, too. I wait for them to call me, with their questions like Is this normal? and What am I doing wrong? I can hear the frustration and worry in their voices.

I go through my standard series of questions for them, quizzing them as much as they quiz me. Once I feel like I've gathered enough information, I give my best educated opinion on the issue. If they need to see their pediatrician, I tell them that upfront. If the situation warrants it, I provide suggestions and tips they may not have thought of. When possible, I share my knowledge with them so that they may be better educated.

The truth is, rarely are they doing something wrong. If anything, these parents who call in the middle of the night are only proving to me that they are dedicated, loving parents, looking for answers to provide comfort to their infants as well as peace of mind for themselves. Babies don't have instruction manuals, and I've yet to meet two infants who are exactly alike. Life with a baby is a series of trial and error, and while that doesn't always mean making mistakes, it often means having to make several adjustments until the right routine is found. (Wait. I think that applies to life with a child at any age...)

I never talk down to them. I remember being a first-time mom, too, wondering if "colic" was really doctor-speak for "ineffective parent" as I tried anything to soothe my screaming child. Had you talked to me at 3am on one of those long nights as I held my daughter while bouncing on an exercise ball, you might have thought I was out of my mind. The advice I give now is 3 parts nurse, with 1 part experienced mom thrown in for good measure.

Even though I'm no longer in a clinical, hands-on practice, each new caller provides me with a patient, and I give them as much attention and care as I would for someone I was working with in person. I want them to feel confident in their parenting skills, and I genuinely want their infant to be content and healthy.

Some have been kind enough to call back and give me updates on their children, even occasionally thanking me for a tip I provided or a few reassuring words that helped them through the night. I remember those moments when I deal with a difficult parent who doesn't like the advice I'm giving and instead takes their frustrations out on me.

I sometimes hate the hours I work. It's hard to stay awake all night and sleep all day, only to turn my schedule around on my two days off so I can spend time with my family. I miss sleeping in the same bed - at the same time - with my husband. It's not all bad, though. I enjoy the stillness of the night. I like the quiet office. And those middle-of-the-night calls, by weary, sleepless parents, are often some of the most rewarding.

I'm a phone triage night nurse, and if you need me at 3am, I'm here and ready to help.

(This post is totally at the request of nicurnmama, who insisted I write a little bit about my job, even if I can't go into a lot of detail for privacy reasons.)

Oh network television, you're killing me.

When the Fall lineup was announced, Aaron and I sat down and mapped out our TV strategy. It wasn't a pretty sight. Most of our favorites avoided the axe last year, and combined with new must-sees we required a chart to keep track of them all.

It seems all of our favorite shows are mostly on at 8pm, with very little on at 9pm. This wouldn't be a problem, except for two days a week when we have three shows on at the same time. Our Tivo can only record two at once, and I'm not quite willing to admit I'm that much of a television addict to pay for a second Tivo service on another TV. To combat this, we let two shows record while we run upstairs to watch the third in our bedroom.

Everything else we planned to get to during the 9pm dead time, or use Wednesday as a catch up night, when we have nothing scheduled. (And yes, the kids are already in bed before 8pm.)

It was a good plan - although a little crammed - at least until my work schedule blew up.

(And I'd like to say here that everything is back to normal, as I hoped it would be soon in my last post, but the truth is it's still busy and may be for quite awhile.)

We're now at least a full week behind on most shows. I think we're caught up on Glee and The Vampire Diaries, but only because I beg to watch them before older TV.

I've tried cutting back. I gave up The Biggest Loser this season, finally admitting that the show is too long for its value. (Honestly - do you need an entire hour for the weigh-in? Skip the suspenseful music and cuts of shocked faces and just get on with it already.) And I've already committed to skipping out on American Idol in the spring.

But everything else is just too good. Chuck. House. Castle. Parenthood. The Big Bang Theory. The Mentalist. Bones. Smallville. (And Glee and The Vampire Diaries, of course.) I love all of them in their own way, and couldn't think of dropping any of them right now. I'm a sucker for a compelling story, exciting cinematography and emotional acting.

So please, network executives, can you toss in a mid-season break soon? I need a couple of weeks to get caught up again. Maybe a baseball or some other sporting event could get in the way for a few weeks?

I really don't want my Tivo to start threatening to delete programs to make space for new ones. And I'm going to BlogWorld this week, which means I'm going to fall even further behind.

TV overlords, have mercy.

There are times when everything is going great in my life, and I can't wait to write out all of the good here on my blog.

Then there are times when I'm frustrated, or something isn't going the way I'd like, and I turn to this blog to vent or get advice.

And then there are times like the last two weeks, when life hands me a body blow - body blow - uppercut TKO and I'm left sprawled out on the mat faster than you can say Mike Tyson's Punchout.

Right after Cordy's birthday, my job went from your normal 8 hour job to a crazy mess. Overtime was strongly encouraged and soon I was only working - sometimes sleeping and sometimes eating - with the rest of my life simply put on hold. I was happy to help out in the situation, because we really needed everyone to give everything they had, but it quickly wore me down.

At the same time, Mira was also in the middle of a strange stomach virus. She had vomited the week before, then went a few days without eating much, then vomited three times in one night. Lather, rinse, and repeat the entire pattern two more times, and we're left wondering what kind of virus can skip a few days and come back again. It also took away my chances at more sleep, meaning I've been extremely underslept for the past two weeks. One night was bad enough that I was sure I was hearing voices and hallucinating.

Then, just because a work crisis and a sick child weren't enough, I developed the stomach virus as well, although mine was more of the single 48-hour variety. But in that 48 hours I purged everything from my digestive system and developed a strong aversion to food. It took several days for me to gain the ability to eat more than a few bites of food at a time, which was a shame considering my work was provided gorgeous meals for everyone working overtime that I couldn't enjoy.

Add in a broken water heater, a three year old who cut her own hair on one side only, a headlight out on the car, and one aggressive school nurse threatening to pull Cordy out of school if we didn't get her vaccinations updated ASAP, and I was starting to think it would be easier to stop trying to get up every time the karma bus ran me over and just lay there instead.

Everything else was in stasis for the week. We used any clothing we could find for the girls because I didn't have time for laundry, other than laundry that involved puke. Pizza and fast food were regular meals for the family. I would often turn the TV on and nap on the couch when the girls got home from school. And I haven't ran or exercised in any way since the March of Dimes 5K. Internet? Ha. I barely knew what was going on in the world.

There has been some good in the past two weeks, though. Seeing everyone at work pull together to get the job done has been inspiring. Aaron has a temp job - where I work, actually - helping out with all of the little extras that need done during this crisis. Cordy read every one of her birthday cards this year, impressing everyone with her previously hidden reading talents. And Mira...well...Mira only cut ONE side of her hair. You could call it a fashionable asymmetrical look.

What energy or personality I possessed was ruthlessly drained from me in the past two weeks, and I'm now desperately trying to pull myself back together and refuel my life force with small servings of Facebook, Twitter, cuddling on the couch with my family, and phone calls with friends and family.

Things are slowly going back to normal. Slowly. There is still a lot of overtime expected at work, but I got to sleep 8 hours this weekend. And do a couple loads of laundry. I got to spend more than a couple of hours with my husband and children, when we were all awake and no one was sick. It was short-lived, and I'm back to only sleeping and working, but I know those peaceful moments will be back again soon.

And I'm slowly inching my way back out into being social again.

Hope you haven't forgotten about me. I've been here the entire time, missing my blog, my friends, and my leisure time. Life should get back to normal soon (whatever normal might be), and as it does nothing will get in my way of getting back to what I love.