(continued from Part 1) I spent Tuesday afternoon with a delightful group of first-graders, at a school more like Bob's--middle-class, mostly native English-speakers. This class had only one Bob--a little girl I'll call "Bonnie"--but that wasn't the only contrast from Tuesday.

Two weeks. Two weeks ago, Bob's psychiatrist switched up his medication cocktail for bipolar disorder (his ADHD medication remains the same). And...my Bob is back.

Last week, we returned to Bob's psychiatrist to discuss the medications he takes for bipolar disorder and ADHD. Over the past year, his medication regimen (which he has taken for over two years) has become less and less effective, even as his doses are increased. I was ready to argue my case for a medication change. Luckily, I didn't have to.

I need a job. Our finances favor it. My husband prefers it. My sanity demands it. But will my oldest child's psychiatric illness allow it?

Quarter-end parent/teacher conferences were last week, and after meeting with Bob's teacher and reviewing his report card, I'm convinced an IEP is the right direction to take.

This weekend, Bob turns 10 years old. A momentous occasion, for sure--why haven't I been in the mood to celebrate? Aside from it being tough to get into party-planning a for someone who has acted anything but party-worthy...parties and Bob don't mix.

Sometimes, my frustration at Bob gets the better of me, and I hit him. Or pull his hair, or pinch him, or kick him, or any of a number of physically abusive gestures. Fortunately, he's usually asleep during these attacks--and so am I--because it only happens in my dreams.

My oldest son, Bob, has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and ADHD. In two weeks, I will meet with his school to facilitate a Section 504 plan, as recommended by the school counselor. As I investigate various accommodations available under education and disability law, I'm not sure two weeks is enough time for me to prepare.

This week, I encountered yet another insurance / psychiatric medication prescription snafu. Bob's old Seroquel prescription had run through its refills and I submitted a new prescription for his bipolar medication from his psychiatrist. Blue Cross Blue Shield refused to pay for it. Why? Because their monthly limit is 102 tablets. Bob's prescription for his psychiatric medication was written for 105. Yes--splitting hairs over Three. Pills.

Last week was certainly eventful. After Monday's outburst that led to a call from school, Bob was under strict orders to...well, just try to get through the day without any drama. He did relatively well, presumably because a school skate night at the roller rink was at stake. Or so it seemed.