Midweek Journal

Waving furiously from the back of the room.

I'm pretty much able to get in a full week of work while the kids are in school, if I plan everything perfectly and don't squander that time with trips to the supermarket or laundry or long chats with the friends or eating. Three days are for teaching. One day is for class prep. One day is for research.

The trouble is that Research Day gets used up by doctors appointments and school meetings. Today is Research Day and I will spend the whole day at the kids' schools.

In an hour, I'll be driving to Ian's school for an IEP meeting. When we first started out in the system, those meetings were extremely awful. But the administrators and I are all on the same page now, so it should be fine. An IEP is a meeting where parents and administrators determine the goals and services for the child. Ian has met all his goals from last year, so they'll show me new ones. I'm sure that his goals will include: raising his hand when he knows the answer, increasing his ability to chat socially with his peers, learning how to pee without dropping trow to his ankles. They're starting to mainstream him, so blending well is now very important.

After the meeting, Steve and I will stick our heads into his classroom and wave furiously. He'll look down at his hands with the hugest smile. "That's MY mommy and daddy."

Then I'll get Steve on a bus for the city and drive over to Jonah's school for School Visitation Day.

It's really important that I'm there today, because I forgot to go last year. I had written it down on the calendar. I had told Jonah earlier in the week that I would be there. And then I forgot. I was probably preparing for class or checking e-mail or blogging or a gazillion other things and I just spaced out.

Jonah has inherited several things from my mother — her propensity for getting stomach aches when she's nervous, allergies and the wild talent for making me feel guilty.

The day that I forgot, Jonah reminded me and said that I was the ONLY mother in the school that forgot. He had been waiting for me all day and I never showed up. Sad, sad, sad eyes. Every once in a while, he'll bring up that incident, which he refers to as one of the saddest days in his life. One day, he sit on a sofa in some expensive therapist's office on the Upper West Side and will recount this moment when his spaced out mother forgot about him.

So, this afternoon, I'll be in Jonah's classroom waving furiously every time he looks around, so he can also think, "that's MY mommy."