I am lonely.
I am in a house full of 6 other people, a lizard, many fish, and two frogs...and yet I am lonely.
I am in lonely lonerdom of loney woney emotions. When everything ends in "y" you know it has reached a new level of pathetic(y).
I have a reason for this odd behavior. And first I have to accept that this is truthfully a characteristic of mine. I best own up to the fact that when shit hits the fan, I usually bounce back. But when shit takes a proverbial double shit on my heart....not so much.
I become grouchy. I snap. I well up with tears for snapping. I retort with "I can't change the scent of the all purpose spray! I missed that class at Hogwarts! DO YOU NEED ME TO SEW YOU SOME NOSE PLUGS!?" when someone says "Hey, I really don't like the way that spray smells." Or, "Did everyone have a good day...HELLO? I said did everyone have a good day? You know what, just forget it. Eat your dang dinner."
And then I watch the clock. Moping, counting, going through the motions of getting everyone clean, nightly rituals done, chores and such, until the time finally comes where I can tell someone everything I am feeling. I have tried to say these things out loud once today, but it was premature, I started sob hiccuping before I could say anything more than a condensed version of the situation.
My boy is having problems in school.
Not to go too much into detail because frankly, it is late, details are irrelevant and I probably wouldn't be able to tell you exactly what the problems are anyways because when the teacher met with me and started with "Let's go over the interventions we are going to be doing" I kind of just locked up with my mouth clenched, trying to stop the whimpers that wanted to turn into sobs. I sat there with my mouth shut, trying to stay calm, keep my composure and do whatever body language positions that I have mastered from watching cop TV shows, that exude "yes, I am totally listening to everything you are saying and I was totally prepared for this talk and am super excited for all these strategic interventions."
While she was yammering on about how his school day will be different now, he will get pulled out of class for this, he will go to another reading group for first graders, even though he is in the 2nd, and how he will miss P.E. for a few weeks so he can go to some other program for "kids like him...kids who are behind"... I was just wondering if my son knew he was not "getting it" or if he felt overwhelmed with everything they were asking of him, and did he feel dumb or that he couldn't do it? Did he know that he just needs extra help and everything would be okay? Did he know?
I came out of the meeting with tears in my eyes. Although I am hopeful that Han will catch up, and that worse things have happened to other parents today, it just doesn't make me feel better about the moment I am living in right now.
And all afternoon I felt it. The creeping stomach ache. The words repeating in my head. Intervention. No P.E. Work with him on this sheet. Check for this. Do that. He needs to read more, encourage him to read all of the time.
When I am in the constant day to day routine with 5 kids, it is really difficult to focus all my attention on one child. One on one time comes in short bursts. Sometimes I have to make a point to sit down and talk with a child if it has been a day or more since the last talk.
But when there is a problem, everything and everyone fades. Appointments collected in my head are forgotten, responses to emails have less importance, and all the things I have been meaning to do, fade. Until all that's left is the child. It is a delicate act, constantly rotating which kid needs the most attention, but it is one that just happens when you have a big family. I am learning as I go.
Tomorrow will be better. I will be able to handle it better. I will wake up and feel less lonely and pathetic because I will start to believe this very thing has happened to many other moms and dads. That he is not the first boy in the history of time to have to get extra help, even though this is new to me, the interventions and programs have been put into place because many other children needed them before his time. I will brainstorm ways to help him at home and remind him that he is a wonderful and bright boy. I will thank my lucky stars that he is healthy, happy, and mine.
But for right now, let me cry.
This shit is sucky.