Like an errant child avoiding homework, I've been putting off something important for almost a week: writing Bob's 504 Plan. Wait--isn't someone affiliated with the school district supposed to do that? One would think.

*continued from Part 1* Last week, I was ruminating on whether or not to select special education as an area of teaching specialization. It may or may not surprise you that I've decided against teaching special education.

I've been ruminating my return to the workforce for the past few months, and have made a decision--I will be returning to work, but not in the same capacity. After taking required coursework necessary to supplement my degree, I plan to teach. I've been substitute teaching in our public school district since November, giving me an opportunity to "try on" grade levels and subjects. Because of my experiences with Bob (my son diagnosed with bipolar disorder and ADHD), I've been told I should teach special ed. I've been told I'd be great with special ed. I just don't think I want to teach special ed.

I'd like to take this opportunity to be the 93,347th person to say "I'm so glad the holidays are over." Because I am. For a multitude of reasons.

Yesterday, I met with the "team" to discuss an IEP for Bob (my 4th-grade son, diagnosed with bipolar disorder and ADHD). Apparently, the team has met before--without yours, truly--as I discovered a couple of weeks ago when I emailed the principal asking whether we were going to meet before or after Bob's teacher returns from maternity leave. The return email I received from the school psychologist indicated no meeting had ever been held, but Bob's ineligibility for services via IEP had already been determined and we could meet to discuss a 504 plan.

December is, and always has been, a difficult month for Bob. It's tough for him to wake up in the morning, and hard for him to get to sleep at night. He "thinks too much" (in his words), and often finds himself getting sad and teary-eyed. And his schoolwork? Don't even ask. I've known Bob's mood takes a downturn in late Fall for a few years now. This year, it appearshe recognizes this aspect of his bipolar disorder diagnosis, as well.

Is my son, Bob (who has bipolar disorder), experiencing "psychotic depression?"

I'm not sure when it happened, but The Toddler has determined "Mom Time" is a good thing. Good enough to be fought for. Begged, borrowed, and stolen for. Bob, not to be outdone in this attention-seeking contest, has upped the ante (however unintentionally). The end result? One Mom, looking like taffy, stretched and pulled, pulled and stretched, ready to snap and feeling pretty similar.

It's Sunday night. One child is in bed; the other is doing his nightly reading. Tomorrow, everyone goes back to work and school. The long Thanksgiving family-fest weekend is over. We survived.

I was almost looking forward to Thanksgiving this year. We had a pretty uneventful holiday planned--Bob would be at his father's house until Saturday evening, and my large, loud extended family had opted for a smaller gathering on Saturday (just my parents, siblings, and assorted nieces). Until Bob caught wind of this plan, and asked to come home early so he could go to his grandparents' house with us. And then I discovered it was not to be an intimate gathering (or as "intimate" as it gets with four siblings, their spouses, and 7 grandchildren); it would be the whole family--aunts, uncles, ad nauseum--totalling 28 people.