The phone rang. Again.
At this point, I’d come to expect it.
“Hi Joey. I’m sure by now you dread seeing my name pop up on your screen.”
She wasn’t wrong.
The director of the daycare, a sweet woman about my age, was once again on the other end of the line to ask me to come get my son.
I texted my boss. Again. And I drove the 25 minutes to the daycare. Again. And picked up my son. Again.
Biting.
He was one. He’d only been in the one year old classroom a few weeks when the phone calls became a nearly every day occurance.
Everyone I spoke to told me it was completely typical toddler behavior. My family. My friends with multiple children. The pediatrician.
“But I’m getting calls almost every single day.” I told the pediatrician. “This can’t be normal.”
“It is,” they assured me.
But when we were one warning away from permanent dismissal, I made the difficult decision to pull him out. I’ll just keep him home with me.
I was lucky, I knew. I had just left my in-office job for a remote position. It was a big job, my new role. But it was also within a very understanding, supportive and flexible company. Do it, my bosses assured me. We’ll make it work.
And they did. Until the economy turned and I found myself sitting on the receiving end of the painful laid offconversation.
I found myself in a tricky situation. I needed a new job. But now I needed it to be fully remote and understanding. My journey to employment is a different story, one I may share another time, but just know that the experience added to the complexity of what we were facing.
Nearly a year after the daycare situation, I got the courage to try again. Preschool. Structured. Surely, this would be better.
It wasn’t.
The conversations started almost immediately. He wasn’t biting anymore, thank goodness. But now the culprit was powerful hugs.
My son has an October birthday, setting him up for a life of always being one of the oldest in a classroom.
He’s getting in trouble for hugging kids?
You can imagine the confused look on anyone’s face with whom I shared that information. Again, my family. My friends with multiple children. The pediatrician.
“This is very typical toddler behavior,” the pediatrician assured me.
But when my son was spending more time in the director’s office than his classroom, I had to make the painful call yet again. And I pulled him out.
Now what?
I’ll just keep him home.
I was lucky, I knew. I was working part-time in a flexible remote position and making up the difference working for myself. I could make it work. And I did.
But it was getting harder and harder to keep all the balls in the air. And then, an angel appeared. Okay, not literally, but it might as well have been literal. A post showed up in my neighborhood Facebook feed. A woman, only a few streets over, was looking to add a child to her small, in-home daycare setting.
Only a few children. Very structured. And with an actual angel running the show? Could this finally be it, I wondered.
At the same time I enrolled him in the in-home daycare, I also enrolled him in a program that was designed for toddlers who needed help in a classroom setting. Finally, I thought. We were getting somewhere. Maybe, just maybe, we’d found our footing.
We hadn’t.
While my son was thriving in the in-classroom program (one I attended along with him every week), the angel had to make the painful call — she couldn’t keep him any longer.
I have a responsibility to keep the other children safe.
That was a line I’d grown accustomed to hearing. One that while good intentioned, left me feeling gut punched every single time.
So while I was hearing weekly from the in-classroom teacher that she couldn’t understand why we were in the program, my kiddo was once again getting dismissed from a childcare setting.
I didn’t understand.
And I didn’t know what to do.
I was lucky, I knew. Despite my heavy workload, I was home. I could just keep him home with me. I could make it work. And I did.
Seven months later, after going completely screen-free and participating in a local friend group that allowed for frequent playdates with children his own age, we decided to try again.
This time would be better.
It wasn’t.
He’d only attended three class sessions before the conversations started.
Toy snatching. Powerful hugs. Very busy. Not listening.
“This is all very typical toddler behavior,” the pediatrician assured me.
But when I found myself having lengthy conversations with the director every time I went to drop off or pick up my son from the very part-time program, I knew we were at the end of our journey with traditional settings.
“I won’t ever enroll him in another program ever again”, I cried to my mother. “I can’t,” I weeped. “I don’t have the emotional endurance for this.”
Every where I turned, family, friends with multiple children, the pediatrician, our parent counselor, the behaviors were getting dismissed as totally typical.
Obviously something is going on though because we have now been dismissed from four childcare settings.
This time was different though. The preschool where my son was enrolled worked with us to help move him through a local evaluation process. It was the first time that instead of just dismissing the behaviors as “problematic,” they saw them for what they might be: signs of something else going on.
What we were seeing:
On their own, none of the behaviors threw up any significant red flags.
The things we were seeing were:
- Speech delayed
- Grabbing
- Hugging
- Toy snatching
- No boundaries/personal space
- Difficulty with understanding and respecting limits
- Very busy / always moving
But along with those things, we were seeing things like
- Compassion and empathy
- Very bright
- Desire to be super social
- Little-to-no difficulty with transitions
- Could follow directions (if you actually had his attention)
- A strong desire to “help”
The process that got us access to the right resources:
We had originally attempted our hand at independent evaluations and potential therapies on our own. First with a speech evaluation when he was just over 1.5 that resulted in a no therapy is recommended at this time outcome. I had also attempted to obtain an occupational therapy evaluation when he was dismissed from the in-home care. I was put on a waitlist for an evaluation appointment to become available. I made the call in February. By June, we still didn’t have an eval appointment booked. This route proved to be frustrating, disjointed and ultimately very expensive and fruitless.
Luckily, the county we live in has a program available to children not yet school-aged. This program offers things like the class we attended weekly to help toddlers prepare for a classroom setting. It also offers parent counseling and once the child is three, an initial evaluation to determine if they could potentially be eligible for additional resources.
One week before his third birthday, we had that initial assessment. And they did determine he would potentially be eligible for additional support. From there, we were graduated to a different program that was associated with the school system within our county to potentially obtain an IEP and access the proper therapies and support.
The evaluation process
Initial intake
This was a meeting with the case manager within the school system programming. They went over all the results from the initial assessment and got additional information from us. My son attended the meeting with me, and he was given toys to play with while we talked in a small office. The case manager explained what we could expect from this process and the potential outcomes.
The Big Evaluation
Our county works with an evaluation center that only does evaluations. It helps speed the process along. All of the services and therapies, however, are provided from the county’s school system.
It was explained that waiting for this appointment would likely be the “longest” step of the process. It’s worth noting, too, that we were entering into this process in the weeks leading to Thanksgiving, which was obviously the kick-off to the holiday season where many would be out of the office and the school system would be closing for winter break.
The Big Eval consisted of a Speech Pathologist, an occupational therapist and a child psychologist. I was placed in a room on the other side of a one-way-mirror while they entered a room with my son. They lead him through certain activities that he was more than happy to participate in, all the while making notes and engaging in certain dialogue with him and one another. I could see and hear everything going on within the room but he could not see or hear me.
The eval ended with them bringing me into the room and offering their immediate feedback and insights along with asking me additional questions. They promised an official write up of their findings and recommendations within a week.
Classroom evaluation
Though my son had already been dismissed from the preschool at this point, they agreed to allow him to return to the classroom for the classroom eval. This was an integral part of the process for us because a the behaviors that were triggering us to enter into this process were really only presenting consistently within a classroom setting.
The evaluator observed him in the classroom for about 45 minutes and provided a write up of what they saw and what their recommendations would be.
They did also speak with me briefly in the hallway when I went to pick my son up after the evaluation.
They promised to provide a detailed documentation of the evaluation to the team to provide context and insight for the Big Meeting.
The Results & Scheduling The Big Meeting
All of the information was sent to us within the promised timeline. I will admit that I didn’t totally understand everything presented, but it was extremely thorough and I appreciated having the information ahead of The Big Meeting.
At the time the results were sent, we were also given a call to schedule The Big Meeting.
Big Meeting: Evaluation & eligibility results
The Big Meeting was a virtual gathering of myself, my son’s father, our case manager, a speech pathologist and an occupational therapist. They went over the evaluation results in depth, explained what everything meant, shared our eligibility results (he was eligible) and then provided their intended plan for intervention and therapies.
Our Individualized Education Plan (IEP) included enrollment in a special education preschool classroom, speech therapy twice a week and occupational therapy once a month.
Our timeline
- September 25th, 2024: First assessment within the original program
- October 23, 2024: Initial Intake with County Program
- November 13, 2024: Big Evaluation
- November 14, 2024: Classroom Evaluation
- December 10, 2024: Big Meeting (IEP eligibility meeting)
This has been such a challenging experience. And I know how isolating it can feel to know deep in your soul that something is going on with your child but to be so far from any real answers.
If you’re noticing any of the above behaviors in your child, I’d recommended reaching out to the resources available to you within your county.
If you just need support, a friend or a lifeline to sanity, let’s connect. As a parent in the midst of it, I’m here for you.
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