Weeeeee! It's IEP week.

It's IEP week for one of my sons. We have 2 special needs kids, so we have the pleasure of experiencing 2 IEP weeks every year. If you have a special needs child, you know this can be a challenging week. You say you don't know what an IEP is? Let me enlighten you. Grab yourself comfort food  (chocolate for me) or drink of your choice, and read on.

In a nut shell, an IEP is a legal document that clearly spells out what type of services your child will receive, and why. The IEP has a way of picking apart your child that you love more than life itself. It sheds a glaring spotlight on every academic deficiency or developmental delay. It does this in the hope that we can all come up with a plan that will help the child reach their full potential. IEP meetings are not for the faint at heart. It's gut check time. You really are forced to come to terms with some pretty difficult facts about your child's development.

On this week, I become painfully aware of the things that my child can't do. Now, I'm a glass half full type of person. I like to focus on what is right. IEPs focus on what is wrong. Needless to say, it's difficult to take at times. It can make you down right scared for what is down the road.  Imagine walking down the street, totally happy and content with life. Then out of the bushes, someone jumps out and punches you in the face. That punch is the IEP. Yay, right?

But the suckage doesn't end there, folks. While you have to sit there and flip through this report of what your child can't do, you are surrounded by the world, who are eager to tell you about how successful their child is. Normally, I love to hear these stories. I want to pump my fist in the air when little (insert child's name) is a Rhodes scholar. But on this week, I want to punch my fist in another direction.

This week, I have endured multiple stories of  a son getting full scholarships from Harvard, a daughter who is the next Doogie Howser, a 1st grader who just solved some scientific mystery, a 5 year old who mastered advanced calculus, and OMG an infant who just learned how to speak  Russian. Wow. Your kids are awesome. Ok, I'm exaggerating. In reality, the kid did well on the SAT, or  won a science competition. In any event, it's something that my child can't experience right now. And that hurts. . I'm normally so very happy for you and your child. But this week, I am struggling. I just can't cheer this week. I feel bad about this. I'm a Christian, and realize that envy is bad. But the fact remains that I struggle with it this week. Because I love my sons so much, I don't want them to struggle.

Right now, my heart aches. My child has to work so hard to overcome his diagnosis. This week, I need to focus on that. It requires all my energy. It's part of the process. Sometimes that process includes tears. And chocolate. There's always chocolate.

You know what else is part of the process?  Excellent educators, who work hard to prepare my sons for the future. And my boys, who continue to work hard, with no complaints. Ok, there is some complaining. But they do work hard every day. I believe in my boys. I know they have yet to meet their full potential. They are making improvements. With every IEP, there is proof of that. But the road is hard.

So on this, the eleventh year of IEPs, I say this. Screw you, IEP week. Just screw you.  Now where did I put my chocolate?