Well, I suppose I should write about the homeschooling group. It just didn't jazz me. They're setting up co-ops and field trips. They're setting up mom's night out at Friendly's. (What, no liquor?!) They're setting up regular meetings. But my kids can't go to co-op and they're probably not going on field trips. The next two regular meetings are "service meetings", and we'll be packing care packages for The Troops. Oye. To top it off, they lean heavily toward fundamentalist Christianity. As a Christian, I'm not supposed to be nervous about that, but I'm Episcopalian, and frankly, a lot of them don't really think I'm Christian enough. Whatever that means. (If you give a cup of water to the least of these, you have given it to me. Even if they're gay.)
Anyway, we're hanging in here. The Husband's allergies are so bad this Fall that he's just curled up in the fetal position, hoping to die. Not that sinuses ever killed anyone -- it just feels like it's going to. I've stopped talking to him. Mostly because he told me to.
The big deal here right now is that we're headed to the psychiatrist on Thursday morning with The Boy. (His anxiety levels are out of control, and I think that's what's keeping him out of the public schools more than the ADD. It's just that the psycologists always says aspergers and ADD.) I'm not sure I'm up to this. I hate crying in public, and it's just not an EIP until The Mom cries. I just feel so helpless when I go to people like this. Then I start feeling pitiful, and pitiful leads to inadequate. And inadequate leads to sorrow for my son. Then I start thinking about what will happen to them when they're adults, and then I cry. Start to finish, 10 minutes. Shorter if the person is nice to me. I HATE that. I spent years working out in the "real world" and was a highly respected professional in my field, and just see what my kids reduce me to. Oye.
You may wonder where "oye" comes from, when I'm a nice waspy suburban mom. College. I went to college with many nice Jewish kids, and came away with an appreciation for yiddish and the power of the Jewish grandma. My all time favorite Bubbe expression is, "How nice for you." It is used when someone starts shamelessly bragging, and it means something like, "Oh shut up. No one cares." I think it's related to, "On you, it looks good," which means, "I think it's hideous, but you go right ahead and wear it."
One funny school note this week -- The Boy spent forever on his work on Monday, dorking around so long that I literally finished school at 4:30. This morning, I threatened him with another 8 hour school day. He shaped up right quick! Yay!!!
Then both of them spent the rest of the day trashing the house whenever I wasn't looking. What is it with kids?! Foaming hand soap all over the bathroom counters, the band-aid box dumped all over the hallway floor, dishes everywhere, pajamas in the dining room, stupid destructive acts all afternoon. I was right happy to put them to bed tonight. It was a relief.
I'm hoping the psychiatrist can put The Boy on something that will get him over the fear of the copper Sun decoration on the neighbor's house, so we can run The Boy around the block several times a day. Maybe that'll help.
I remember when I had a life, and this doesn't feel like a life right now -- hostile husband, destructive, needy, ungrateful children. I get one Saturday morning a month off to visit with the food coop people, whom I adore. (We humor each other's wackyness without judging. I love those people.) These doctor's appointments always make me really edgy for days ahead of time. I start joking about whether the doctor will give the anti-anxiety meds to me or The Boy. After Thursday's appointment, I'll calm down again. I promise. I just need to get through tomorrow without snapping at the poor things. I'm all set for school, if I can only come up with a Mesopotamian activity for The Girl. Oye.
3 comments:
It's spelled "oy." Or you can say "oy vay." My favorite Yiddish expression is "Nu?" Where did you go to school? And when are you going to make the e-mail on your Blogger profile public so that I can reply directly to your comments?
Anyway, you sound like I felt all day today. If you lived closer, I'd make sure we had a mother's night out; and it wouldn't be at Friendly's. You need to find a different group - some of the fundamentalist homeschoolers can be judgmental, unfortunately. Find some Catholics to hang with - they are much more forgiving, in my experience. You can try to see if there is a TORCH group in your area.
I think Prozac would be a wonderful thing for your son. You are living under so much stress right now, and so is he. I know several people whose kids did really well on anti-anxiety medication.
I'm prattling on like a know-it-all, but I don't mean to sound that way!
Oh, if you want to have some fun while you're packing those care packages, mention out loud how much the troops will appreciate our helping them win the occupation. Or wear an Obama button, even if you're not voting for him. It's so easy to drive people crazy these days!
I know what you mean about embarrassing yourself by the crying. A good psychiatrist should realize it's not because you are a loser, but because the situation is just so darn stressful! It gets worse as they get older, because you get panicked about their managing on their own.
I just can't shut up, can I?
Hi there. I'm a Jewish former NYer and I see now that someone has already corrected you on the "oy" thing. So I will just say "hello" and tell you that I have a very close friend with a kid somewhat similar to your son and I know how tough it is. You're doing the best that you can and that is all you can do.
I always heard it "Oye vey!" But hey, I'm a shiksa, so all bets are off. ;)
I'm so grateful for the support on The Boy. I figure that if he couldn't regulate his blood sugar, I'd have him on meds. This isn't any different. You gotta do what you gotta do. For the kid, for the family, for yourself.
Stay strong, y'all.
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