Page 37 of In It to Win It

He helps me with my light jacket, which is very polite, hangs it on a nearby hook, and we take our seats.

“Have you been here before?” he asks.

“I have. They have great wings.” Although chicken wings probably aren’t a good thing to order on a first date—not exactly elegant.

A waitress approaches to take drink orders. I approve of Anthony’s choice of a craft Belgian wheat beer, and I request a house cocktail—lemonade with Maker’s Mark bourbon. Two of my favorite things together.

We make conversation and look over the food menus. Anthony is a production assistant for a smallish film company. He has lots of entertaining stories, which he shares as we eat grilled chicken and avocado sandwiches, making me laugh. He’s easy to talk to, interested in hearing about my job, and . . . there’s no sparkly stuff happening. At all.

That doesn’t matter. Probably I’m crazy to expect that after one date.

By the time we’re done eating and have finished off a second drink each, the police haven’t showed up to arrest him and he hasn’t tried to recruit me to sell Amway or asked if I’m ovulating (these things all really happened to me on first dates), so really, we’re off to a fine start!

On the sidewalk outside the Tavern, he offers to walk me to my car, another nice gesture. I’m only half a block away on the busy street, though, so we say good night.

“I’d like to see you again,” he says.

I don’t even hesitate. “Me too.”

“Great. Let’s chat next week.”

He kisses my cheek, which is sweet.

So what if I don’t want to climb him like a koala on a tree? I’m sure when I get to know him better, the attraction will develop. It doesn’t always happen instantaneously. My friend Ashleigh ended up marrying a guy she was “just friends” with for years, so clearly it can happen. Anthony and I just need to be friends first.

I getto my office early Monday morning. I like to start my week by reviewing my calendar to see what appointments I have scheduled and what other things I have to get done, and prioritizing work.

I love my job. It’s stressful and overwhelming at times, with all the paperwork and clients that are waiting to be seen, but it’s also rewarding. It’s all worth it when I have one of those moments when a child’s face lights up in a breakthrough that I know is going to change his or her life. But dealing with kids with problems all the time can take its toll; dealing with parents too. Part of what I do is train parents to work with their children at home and it’s frustrating when some parents begrudge their kids the time they need, or get annoyed because they feel like they’re doing the work instead of me. I spend an hour with the kids once a week one-on-one, but they’re the ones who spend every day with their kids.

My coworker, Catherine, arrives soon after me and we chat over coffee for a few minutes about our weekend. Our first appointment this morning is with a child who’s new to the clinic, here for an assessment because of her language delay. We talk to three-year-old Laura’s mom about her concerns, making notes, then do a play-based assessment. I get down on the floor to talk to Laura as we play with blocks and trucks, while Catherine observes and makes notes.

“That’s it!” I tell Laura. “Now can you put the cow in the truck?”

She’s making animal and truck noises as we play, and lots of gestures, but very few words.

I do a standardized assessment as well. Laura is dropping initial consonants, likeL, R,andY,and she’s reluctant to imitate my sounds and words. This is quite typical. My clinical impression is that Laura has apraxia, which is actually a movement disorder. Her brain knows what she wants to say, but the muscles of her articulation structures—her lips, tongue, and soft palate—can’t do it. It’s very hard for her to put sounds and syllables together.

We explain this to Laura’s mom, who’s understandably distressed but also relieved to know the cause of her daughter’s speech delay. My experience with children with apraxia is that they need to learn that when they make the effort to produce an understandable word, they’ll be rewarded by being understood. I find that Laura can sayBsounds, so I get out a ball and a stuffed bear that we play with. The idea is to associate a desired toy or activity with the word, which reinforces her effort.

We outline a treatment plan that will also include stimulating Laura’s hard and soft palate, lips, and tongue using a toothbrush and tongue depressor to create oral awareness of the structures. I’ll teach Laura’s mom how to do this at home too.

“You’re so good with the kids,” Catherine says afterward.

“Thank you!”

“Building rapport is sometimes the hardest thing,” she adds. “Getting kids comfortable enough to participate—but you just bring that out in them.”

I don’t really think I do anything special; I just have fun with them. But it’s nice to hear words of praise.

I’m typing up a report at my desk when my boss, Toni, stops by. “It’s lunchtime, Taylor.”

I smile. “I know.”

“Shoo.” She waves her hands. “Take a break! You know it’s important.”

I’m grateful for a boss who understands that. Burnout and compassion fatigue are real issues in this business. Toni tries to make sure we take breaks, and she makes our weekly team meetings fun as well as businesslike. She’s been in the field for ten years and started this business five years ago, and I admire the depth of her knowledge as well as her management skills. I want to be her when I grow up.

I save my report and head out. Our office is in Torrance, and I drive to a nearby shopping mall to grab some food. I sit outside near the water fountains to eat, enjoying the autumn sun, and check my phone for Snapchat messages from Lacey or Ashleigh or Everly. We have a group set up on the app and send each other messages all the time.

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