Zoo’s On First?

Dear people who were visiting the swamp area at the New Orleans Zoo Sunday afternoon,

I’m the woman in the black dress you saw trying to yank a screaming, wailing, flailing girl into the ladies room.    I know you all saw me.  I saw the looks on your faces: astonishment, horror, unease (Is this woman trying to kidnap or otherwise harm this child?), revulsion.  I know I looked a sight.  I was hot, sweaty, disheveled, angry, scared, and quite frankly not sure what in the hell to do.  My daughter, who is normally one of the most beautiful children I know and has a brain to match it, was making faces straight out of the Exorcist, yelling “help, help,” and acting as if someone were trying to burn all of her precious stuffed animals in a furnace.

Here’s what happened – what led up to the spectacle you had the misfortune of witnessing.  We were playing on Monkey Hill.  All was right with the world, other than the fact that it was about 600 degrees outside.  All of the sudden, my daughter said she had to pee NOW.  Nothing like waiting until the last minute, no?   I left my son with my husband and we set off to find the closest bathroom, which wasn’t all that close.  I was aware that time was of the essence.  When we arrived at the appropriate building (in the swamp exhibit), my daughter wanted to go to the bathroom inside the nice building with the cafe and gift shop.  The only problem was that wasn’t where the doors to the bathroom were.  They were on the exterior of the building.  For whatever reason, that flipped the switch.

I suppose I should interject here that periodically my kid has a complete phobia of insects.  Or she loves them and finds them fascinating.  There’s no in-between.  Anyway, we’re currently in the phobia phase of the cycle.  It’s kind of stupid when you’re doing lots of things outside.  You know, where the bugs live.  Anyway, somewhere, somehow, she became convinced that bugs could travel the water pipes and come pouring out of the faucet.    Ergo, bathrooms – particularly those with doors opening to the outside – are obviously going to be infested.

She stopped walking.  I told her it was fine, that there would be no bugs, that she needed to go.  She told me she didn’t go.  I told her she was being ridiculous and that we were going to the bathroom now.  I tried logic to no avail.   That’s when the noise and chaos ensued.

I finally just managed to yank her screaming to the door.  When it opened and she saw clean white tile and felt the AC, she calmed immediately.  Until she got to the commode, that is, but hopefully y’all missed all that.  The whole thing was ugly.  So ugly.  And loud.  I sometimes forget that everything with my daughter is so much more, including her volume.  The whole thing scared the hell out of me.  She’s not some 3 or 4 year old I can just pick up and carry away.  She’s a large, powerful kid.  And the whole thing just caught me so off guard.  I couldn’t tell you the last time she had some kind of godawful public outburst to that degree.

I probably handled it badly.  I’m sure out there somewhere there’s some supernanny or child whisperer that could have calmed her immediately with  soothing words and had her gliding to the bathroom door.  That wasn’t me, or not at that moment.  I really do try, though.  I read the books.  I’ve joined the Facebook pages and support groups. I know what one is supposed to do.  Only that doesn’t always work.

Before the storm

This ADHD thing.  I talk about it a lot.  I have to or I’ll explode.  It sounds so stupid and simple.  I almost feel guilty about yammering about it so much.  It could be worse.  I know that.  But y’all, it’s hard.  And it’s constant.  And it wears you down, especially now when a new school is starting and everyone is just trying to settle in and find their way.  I’m sitting here in knots because I need to have 2 different 504 meetings at 2 different schools and I asked for both of these meetings months ago and I work and how do you schedule all this stuff?

Both of my kids have this diagnosis, as well as my husband.  You have to believe me when I say it’s very lonely much of the time.  My primary obsession focus is my kids.  It just kind of has to be.  And because of my husband’s own issues, he just can’t always help.  Hell, sometimes he adds to the problems if I’m honest.  It’s overwhelming.  The meds, the appointments, having to  make sure everything is laid out to make things as simple as possible (because something has to be simple, right?)

And please please don’t get me wrong.  I love all of these people with all my heart.  And the ADHD can sometimes be fascinating and fun.  They can create things in ways I never could.  The only thing I can create is dinner.  My daughter’s art is amazing.  My husband builds stuff like our foam machine which we take to schools and parties to make kids happy.  My son is a force, with his machines and other gimcrackery that he’s always constructing, all the while freestyling the Predator Rap.

But there are times, like now, when I feel like I’m barely holding it together.  I bought myself a silly cheap bracelet on Amazon.  It’s to remind me that I am enough.  I have to be.

So I’m sorry about what you saw.  It was not our finest moment.  And thanks for not contacting security to report me for attempted kidnapping.  That would have been pretty awkward.    And if you know someone like me – a parent of a kid who’s different – be patient, be kind, and try not to judge.  This shit is harder than it looks sometimes.

Thanks.

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Count Rushmore

The beginning of the school year is approaching fast.  Too fast.  I’m not ready.

I’m already disappointed in Felix’s new school.  When you have a kid who needs some extra care/support, everyone loves to tell you to “be proactive.”  How can you be proactive when everyone else is inactive?  Seriously, y’all.  I called lots of time.  A note was left on his paperwork when I registered him back in June.  “Felix has ADHD and mom would like him placed with a teacher that has experience with this if possible.  Also wants a 504 plan meeting before school starts.”  I finally got the principal on the phone very briefly Friday morning.  I was blown off.  Meeting isn’t possible and “all the teachers are good.”  Sure.  Whatevs.  I’ll be sure to remind you of this if things go badly.  I tried.

But as much as I bitch here and to my parents and Will, I am trying my best to put a positive spin on this situation.  Felix still bitches about the Evil Villain, so talking about a new school far away from her is an easy sell.  He actually seems excited.  Stella is coming around also, although I’m still getting gripes about “boring stupid homework” and kids “shushing” her.

See? We’re trying this positive thing.

Her drama.  Does anyone else out there have a 7-8 year old that’s already shelling out teenager-sized drama?  It’s awful.  If she’s in a mood and  I correct her for anything at all – and patient corrections vs mom-is-losing-her-shit corrections – I often get snarky and obnoxious comments like “Well you just hate me then, don’t you?  I’m so stupid.”  I hate that nonsense.  It pisses me off.  Other than taking stuff away from her, I have no clue how to correct this.  And yes, we’ve had tons of discussions about “positive self talk rather than negative self talk.”  Maybe it’s the ADHD amping things up.  Probably.  Who knows.

But we’re reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and that’s making me so  happy even though Stella is being a butt about it.  Charlie is about to go into the factory now, so hopefully she’ll come around.  Who doesn’t love an Oompa Loompa??

Wish me luck, y’all.  And cross your fingers and toes that I don’t go batshit on the new teachers.

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Girls Just Want to Have Fungus

Y’all know I’m mad about a Christmas Story. That’s a fantastic movie. One of the best ever. If you don’t like it just close this post and walk away.

While Ralphie is the star of the show, my personal fav is the Old Man. His world-weary expressions are ones that all parents are familiar with. I personally can relate to his hatred for his neighbor’s dogs, although the chihuahuas next door only bark and have never stolen my turkey dinner.

The best part of his character is his Old Man language. He curses the car, the furnace, the lack of glue. Naddafinga, mundane noodle. It’s amazing. It’s close enough to actual speech to be real, to have meaning. You know when he says “naddafinga” that he means “don’t fuck with me.”

Felix knows this language. He’s been utilizing it to insult his sister in the most spectacular fashion. She’s been called a “wingus farthead.” I’ve heard him holler “stank cuffbark” at her. My favorite, though, is “dark fungus.”

I know as parents we’re supposed to be neutral and to get onto our little people when they’re being disrespectful or using unkind words and such parental shit. But y’all, hearing my son snarling “You dark fungus” is one of the funnier things I’ve heard in a while.

What do y’all do when you’re supposed to be pissed off but can’t stop giggling???

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Fairwell

I must admit I’ve had my head in the sand.  I’ve been avoiding stuff.  Stuff around the house.  Stuff at work.  This stuff.  School stuff.  That’s the root of it all, the school stuff.  I’ve reached that point where it’s become this dull nagging nugget of panic, sadness, rage, and guilt that I’m not dealing with it.

This summer has been great – the best so far as a parent.  I’ve said that already.  It really  hit me that it’s been like a break from dealing with ADHD.  No struggles with homework and teasing, no stressing about if meds wear off and all hell breaks loose. I sent my kids to camp most weeks, the others they were with Oui Oui or myself.  Sure, there was jackassery.   They’re kids.  Kids = jackassery.  But only once all summer (and that was last week) was I approached by a camp person  to tell me about an incident.  Usually teachers on counselors say it like that.  This camp person had a legit beef but managed to convey it respectfully and in a way that didn’t leave me with that sense of panic in my belly wondering “oh shit what if we get kicked out of this camp?”

I got to be a mom and my kids got to be kids.  And that was it.  And that was amazing.  I’m absolutely gutted that it’s over.

We went to a huge fair in Mississippi this past weekend.  My mom is in town to visit and we went up there to see family and stay a while.  It was hot.  It was crowded.  I love the fair.  I hate the fair.  I love the idea of the fair more than the actual experience.  But I’m glad we went.  Stella and I spent most of Monday riding carnival rides.  You wanna know something?  As you get older, ladies, your boobs want to go to the sides on the Tilt-a-Whirl.  It’s like upper-torso lady-spreading.   I had never noticed that before.

On the way home from the fair yesterday, I realized it was time for me to just get on with shit.  After unpacking, I girded  my loins, grabbed both school supply lists, and went to WalMart.

Maybe this is a southern thing, but hands up who hates school supply shopping with a hatred normally reserved for murderous dictators?  The sheer amount of shit you have to buy with the precise nit-picking detail is ridiculous.  I left WalMart with blood boiling, $150 poorer, and still not with everything my kids need.  Thank glob for Amazon, because I’m sorry, I’m not going to Office Depot just to buy 3 large Pink Pearl erasers when I could just as easily have sent up a 5 pack of medium Pink Pearl erasers.  And there was not one orange plastic pocket folder with the brads to be had, so I found something sort of off-red and I’m labeling it “orangish” and it’s going to have to be good.  School supply shopping used to be fun and magical.  Now it’s an expensive blood-pressure-raising, bank account emptying nightmare.  Lunchboxes and backpacks are the only fun parts left.

I still have details to work out. I don’t know who will watch the Dude while I do Girl Scouts.  My amazing friend offered to pick Stella up and then meet me right after so that I don’t have to worry about 2 afternoon carpools (and can I tell you I almost cried that someone offered to help?).  I can’t get anyone at Felix’s new school to talk to me about teacher selection for him, and apparently their brand new guidance counselor hasn’t even started yet so there’s no way a 504 plan will be in place before school starts.   I had asked to meet with Stella’s teachers before the beginning of the year, and I’ve heard nothing.  I have a job and 2 kids (now at 2 different schools) and I can’t do this last-minute bullshit.   I just hate this, y’all.  I want to cry and pummel someone at the same time.

If any of y’all wins the big jackpot and wants to sponsor my kids in private school, PM me, yes?  School starts next week, so there’s still some time….

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A Kong Day’s Journey Into Night

I’m not going to lie: it’s been a rough few days. We’re one of those modern households with a cut cord, meaning we do everything via the internet. Without the net to power our Roku and devices, there is no Spongebob, no Dinotrux, no Supernatural (Team Dean/Cass). After working wonderfully all day, late Thursday afternoon our internet died.

I was cooking dinner when I first noticed something wrong: an AT&T tech wandering across our yard looking up, obviously tracing a line. The kids were at Oui Oui’s for a few days – both a blessing and a curse, as Stella would have known the exact second service ended. We could have wrasseled that AT&T guy to the ground and made him fix us, tout de suite. As such, we didn’t notice for about an hour after he left our neighbor’s house (the Desperate Housewife). We thought it may be one of those service blinks, so I went to bed early, figuring all would be right in the morning. Nope.

Will did an online chat with AT&T the next day. We got the usual canned spiel about how if it was an inside problem we would be responsible for at minimum a $90 call and yada yada yada oh, and what was our phone number so we could talk about AT&T services. Nope. Just the services we already have and pay for that aren’t working, thanks. How about a Monday evening service call – their first available?

Oh. Hell. No.

What y’all need to understand is that this is July in Louisiana. We were facing what the local weather folks were calling “the hottest weekend of the year,” with a heat advisory issued Friday morning for the entire weekend. I have 2 kids and no cable/satellite. No cartoons. No YouTube. Glob help me. I started looking at hotels. I really did. At least there one can have internet and a pool and breakfast….

Poor Will ventured out early Saturday to cut our grass which is when he discovered the root of our problem: our cable had been cut. In the back corner of our backyard (Desperate Housewife’s side) is a utility pole. Our cable comes down the side of this pole. It was a clean cut, roughly head-height. The damn Gorilla had cut our line and run inside to hide like a bitch, leaving 2 branches on the ground where they still sit.

Well, here’s your problem, ma’am.

Explanation: the Desperate Housewife is a cute teeny little thing. About 2 years ago, this huge, hulking hairy dude started coming around. I’ve never heard him say complete words, only monosyllables. He’s like bloody King Kong next to Fay Wray. They ultimately got hitched. See? Desperate. I told you. Anyway, their backyard had gotten rather Heart of Darkness (so has ours – I’ll not judge on that). We think overgrown tree branches broke their line. He frantically went to cutting to fix or alleviate the issue. He cut our line and ran inside. AT&T came out, fixed their problem by running a patch cable across their yard. Their problem was solved. Ours was just beginning.

Will feels certain there’s no way he cut a cable and didn’t realize it. He could have at least come over and told us – apologized. We could have at least gotten a jump on getting it fixed vs finding out ourselves on a Saturday when AT&T weekend staffing is short.

At least it’s Sunday and I can go to work tomorrow where there is blessed internet. The togetherness and jackassery have become more than I can bear.

And if you have any good asshole neighbor pranks? Let me know. As if their 3 shitty chihuahuas weren’t enough, I’m now out for blood. They will pay.

I did get to hang out with Ursula at a showing of the Little Mermaid Friday night. Inspiration! Those poor unfortunate souls…

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Auld Hang Syne

I was spending time at the kids’ camp on Monday afternoon.  I volunteered to come in and do a demo on geology and groundwater, ending with edible aquifers – a hideous sugar bomb of marshmallows, chocolate chips, gummy bears, and smaller marshmallows placed in layers then “polluted” with dry cherry or strawberry Jello mix before being “recharged” with Sprite.  Kids love it.  The idea of it makes me want to throw up in my mouth.  But it’s all in the name of science and for the purposes of demonstrating porosity, so I pull that particular rabbit out of the hat on a semi-regular basis.

ANYWAY, I was chatting with their camp director before the first group came in, and she was asking how my summer was going.  And y’all, I was actually able to say it’s going good.  Normally I’m whining and moaning about summer and the lack of routine and how it freaks out Stella and….  Not this year.  This has been my best summer as a parent, my best summer in years.  As a matter of fact, I don’t want it to end, hideous heat and all.  I’m dreading the start of school.

Clearly the heat isn’t bothering my daughter

And we’re not doing much.  We’re not going and blowing.  There hasn’t been a single playdate since the week school let out.  There are no vacations on the horizon for quite a while.  We’ve been doing science and art kits.  We’ve had tea parties.  It’s just been a lot of hanging.  And it’s been ok.  School starts in a month.  Maybe another month of togetherness will change my mind.

My couch will never be the same

I’m keeping this short.  Our IT folks updated all of us to a newer version of Office and now my email only works for about 6 seconds at a time.  I’m waiting on a call back from my 3rd ticket.  Progress.

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Strike a Poseur

Warning:  I’m allowing my ADHD family to rub off on me for this one.  Brace yourself and follow along if you can.

Speaking of ADHD, I’ve been joining several online support groups, as I feel that’s something I need.  I opened one up the other day and became absolutely shattered reading one post.  The person essentially asked what about neurotypicals bothered people with ADHD.  Most responses were humorous.  More than a few were not.  There were some that felt “the lack of emotion must mean a lack of intelligence,” and another postulated that this same lack of outward emoting made them shady or dishonest.  Some of these posts were downright nasty.  Y’all.  It really bothered me.  I had joined this forum – and others like it – in the spirit of coming together, understanding, and maybe learning.  It ate at me all day.

Later at work, I was in my cube.  I’ve been spending a lot of time in there, rather than going out and interacting.  Part of that is I’ve simply had a lot to do.  But a huge part of it is that I’m having a hard time being around negative people.  Sure, every workplace has the gossips and shit-stirrers.  We have someone that has taken negative behavior to an artform.  I’ve been trying to just spare myself and others by isolating.  But just overhearing it that day ate at me.  I cranked up the headphones to drown it out, but you know how those kinds of voices (or that kind of sensitivity) works.  You hear it anyway.

I then flew off the handle about something really dumb – an assignment and having my work product reviewed.  Dumb shit.  Truly.  Then it hit me.  I was not feeling right or acting right.  Maybe it’s hormones.  Either that or I’m losing my merde a bit.  I usually don’t react – much less overreact – to shit online.  I usually am able to drown out or ignore the office bullshit.  This week was a challenge.  Glob, please send the menopause fairy my way.  I’m done with this.

My son went to camp today feeling fabulous.  He had been into “cool hair” this morning, and I had tried a fauxhawk.  His hair is thick.  Like, alpaca wool thick.  I tried a quick tease and spray job, but it quickly became apparent I would need extra support.  Since I had about 3 minutes to work, I used some of those tiny rubber bands and made a series of straight up ponytails down the middle of his head.  He was delighted.  He went to camp. He got teased.  Mother f’er, he got teased at camp for his hair.  My 5 year old kid.  He was seriously bummed about it.  My heart broke a bit.  He’s never been teased, reacted to being teased.  It’s like the end of a certain kind of innocence.  I guess the tiny ponytails are done.  And I may send a tiny billy club in his lunch box next week.  No, I won’t do that.

See? He thought he was the coolest.

And for those of y’all with multiple children: was there a turning point with your kids where suddenly pugilism was the answer to everything?  My kids have always bickered, but now they’re slapping, kicking, and throwing punches.  WTH.  I think I’m going to try a “shirt of togetherness,” where I make them both get into a giant shirt together and stay that way until they can behave like decent people.  And when did your children manage to eat a meal without sending at least 8 oz of food and crumbs all over your damn kitchen floor?  I’m asking for a friend.

I finally got a day to myself today.  I telecommute 2 days a week.  It’s really a gift.  It started as a necessity when I was pregnant, then nursing, but it stuck.  To be fair, I’ve also demonstrated I can do it successfully.  Over this past weekend, I was using my “mom voice” after reaching my breaking point over some such silly shit.  Will asked what my problem was.  I responded that I’m an introvert and that I require time alone to recharge and therefore not act like an inappropriate asshole in public and I had not gotten that.  He quipped back that he was in introvert, too, and he didn’t get time alone.  Excuse me?  He’s a pretend introvert.  He processes out loud just like his son, but he won’t admit it. Every night once the kids are in bed, he’s all up in my grill to “interact.”  Some nights that’s cool.  It’s great.  But when an introvert has had one of those days, “interaction” needs to mean sitting together quietly in a room doing different things.  He doesn’t get that.  Ergo, he’s a poseur introvert.

This was me this morning less than 2 minutes after my beloved family got the hell out of the house.

And it’s hot.  And my daughter decided she wanted to be “snuggly” tonight and chose fleece f’ing pajamas.  She’s also been bugging me to make zucchini soup.  In July.  In Louisiana.  Of course, I’m obsessively knitting a giant blanket so….

Have a great 4th, y’all.  I hope you all find yourselves free of whatever holds you down.

And HEY: There’s a new season of Nailed It on Netflix, AND a bonus mini-episode where they have the guys from Queer Eye on it. Too fabulous. Go watch it!!!!

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Handing Me the Ease to the Kingdom

You know that old saying about how sometimes you can’t see the forest for the trees?  I’ve had a parental version of that in the last 24 hours.  I suppose I tend to be incredibly detail-oriented.  I’m not sure if that’s because my entire family has ADHD and I’m the lone non-er (I would never say “normal”) meaning I kinda always have to be on top of shit or if that just comes naturally.  I guess what I’m trying to say is that often I’m so worried about everything and trying to plan 16 steps ahead with predictions for various outcomes which may or may not snowball into drama, tantrums, or other varieties of bad behavior or trauma that sometimes I tend not to be the most present person.  Is there such a thing as ADCP: Attention Deficit due to Contingency Planning?

Twice in the last 24 hours I was slapped upside my own head by the realization that “Damn!  This is truly getting easier!  Those people were not, in fact, full of shit when they told me that.”  For instance, I took the kids to Chuck E. Cheese and actually had an ok time.  This is a Camp Oui Oui/Mom week, so I figured I’d run them out there to burn some energy.  I was certain it would be disastrous, as many local camp groups go there for field trips.  Nope.  We had the whole place to ourselves.  And now that they have the whole front gate/hand stamp procedure, I can actually let Stella just go play.  Felix, too, although he usually likes to stay close to me.  But it was easy.  I didn’t get overwhelmed or stressed one single time.  Granted, I still want nothing to do with that place on a weekend afternoon while 16 different children are having their birthday parties simultaneously, but random Thursdays are not bad.  I just kicked back in an only-slightly-greasy booth.  I never in a million years  would have been able to do that – or even tried unless another adult was present – a year or two ago.

I mean look: they’re not acting like assholes…

…unlike this piece of work in the parking garage. It’s ok. I pointed out their bad behavior for them.

This morning as I got up for work, I realized that more often than not now I wake myself up about 5 minutes before my alarm.  My kids actually sleep “in” now.  In their own beds.  Almost every night.  I really don’t think I believed that that would happen. Like ever.

I know I’m still in the trenches.  But sometimes the mortars aren’t exploding so close.

Now I’ve done it.  My children will probably serve me an extra-large serving of jackassery tonight.  But that’s ok.  Tomorrow will probably be easier.

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Would You Like Some Fries With That Snake?

Offices are strange places.  I’m sitting at my desk in my office.  Who am I kidding?  It’s a damn cubicle.  It’s that horrible pseudo-privacy in which you’re in there alone but everyone that walks by is typically peeking in to see what you’re doing.  I don’t blame them.  I do it, too, even though I try hard not to and honestly don’t care what people are up to.

Sorry.  That popped in my head as I fired up WordPress to write and the really funny thing I wanted to share was violently removed from my mind by the crazy guy on the other side of the wall cussing in triplicate (which he’s been doing a lot of lately, along with banging, stomping, and vigorously rubbing his hands together) and the dude that sounds like J. Peterman from Seinfeld stomping around in the aisle hollering about the lack of printer paper.

So yeah.  Idea gone.  Destroyed by my office.

To be fair whatever I had to say wasn’t earth-shaking, or no doubt I’d remember it.  The doctor wants to up Felix’s dose on his meds.  At this point I’m ambivalent.  The one he’s on now isn’t working.  I’ve “forgotten” to give it to him some mornings and honestly I can’t tell the difference.  And if it’s not working, why put that stuff in his body?  But I know we’ve got to get him sorted out as much as possible before school starts. So yeah.  He did make an impression as we were leaving the office yesterday, by loudly telling the lady at the desk that his shorts were jammed up his butt.  Welcome to the wonderful world of wedgies, son.

We have reached the point where it’s just too hot to do much of anything.  It’s 80 at 7:00 AM.  The other day I had to run a quick errand downtown and within about 2 minutes of walking normally I had sweat running down the back of my knees.  How does that even happen?  I’m trying to book us an overnight in New Orleans, as the kids have never done that and we have an Audubon pass which lets us into the aquarium, insectarium, and zoo.  And yes, I know I’m nuts, because it certainly won’t be cooler down there.

I guess that’s it.  I’m officially boring.  I am ending with what is the best thing I’ve seen in a long time.  I was out trying to walk Monday morning in a park near our capitol building.  A tiny movement on the sidewalk caught my eye and I stopped to look.  There was the tiniest snake I’ve ever seen in my life.  Worms would dwarf this thing.  I got it off the sidewalk before it got stepped on, beaten up by an ant, or eaten by a bird, but what a cool thing to see.  I’m ending with a picture of it and the video I took while trying to get it to safety.  Note that the large brown things next to him are pine needles – just for perspective!

Keep your eyes open!

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Pots and Plans

So here we are.  I guess for those of y’all keeping track, I owe you an update on what’s going on with the Dude.  After trying everything I could think of, and exploring every possible plan B through Z, Felix is enrolled in a regular classroom in a different school next year.  As you might recall, we had him privately tested by a psychologist.  While the Dude did great on many sections of that test, he simply couldn’t keep it together for some of the other sections (and oddly enough the results between some of these sections and the ones from his old school were the inverse of each other).  The psychologist said his ADHD is simply getting in the way.  He suggested we bring him back after he turns 6 and hopefully has his symptoms under control  to be retested.  He – the psychologist – also said he’d likely be the star in this new school.  That doesn’t necessarily make me feel good.

So genpop it is.  I guess I haven’t wanted to write about it because on some level it makes it more “holy shit this is happening.”

Socially, he’ll be fine.  Candidly, that kid gives zero fucks about stuff like that.  He’ll make all his classmates his minions or just simply ignore them.  I’m worried more about Stella in that regard, particularly now with me having to separate my own efforts and energy.  I won’t be able to pop up and have lunch with both kids anymore.  There’s no way I can be room mom.   Field trips will be dicier.  The carpool before and after school is already giving me an ulcer.  I’m going to have to beg for favors – ask for help.  And I don’t wanna do that.

I’m trying to be open-minded.  Maybe in the next year we can get Felix sorted out.  Maybe we can get him back in the magnet program for first grade.  Maybe he’ll thrive in this other school.  Maybe all this can be managed without high blood pressure, too much wine, and more gray hair.

I just wish I could wave the anti-ADHD wand, jump into my wormhole, and go back in time a couple of  months to the day he was given that blasted screening test.  I wish I could just quit my job and homeschool my kid – or kids.  I wish I could just fix this shit.  I wish I could just keep them safe at home with me for a few more years.

Sorry.  I’m done.  At least it’s the weekend and I can acquire some of that aforementioned wine.  I’ll start trying to be a positive-minded adult again on Monday.  We may actually go on a swamp tour this weekend.  While Will and I have kayaked in swamps before, I’ve never been out on one of those airboats.  I may have some things to say about that if it works out.

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