I am mad at the world today. I just left my little boy at school. He doesn’t want to be there and I don’t blame him. There is no art. There is no music. There is no one who can understand him. There is no one he can understand.
Today was the first morning he was actually crying wet tears as I walked away. Wet tears. He hates school. That is generally apparent, but TODAY? Today with the actual wet tears? Crap.
I didn’t even make it to the car before I started sobbing. Usually I get off campus before I lose it, but not today. Nope. Tons of other parents and a couple of staff members saw me this time. Great.
And it’s raining and I don’t have a good jacket anymore. My favorite has a busted zipper and a small tear on the inside pocket. It’s still hanging in my closet because I can’t part with it. I have four other jackets and they all suck.
It’s San Diego, you know? Even when it’s pouring rain, you don’t need a very heavy jacket and I just can’t find a good lightweight number that fits me and doesn’t look like I borrowed it from my super tall brother. Once you hit plus sizes, the world thinks you don’t mind looking like a man. That makes me mad too.
I’m also mad at the developer of our neighborhood. The freaking houses are too close together and this morning I had nowhere to go outside and lose my mind like I wanted to. When you have a few acres you can do that. Lose your mind. Outside. Because no one will hear you. You can take one of your cheap plates out of the cupboard and go smash it and no one will do anything. Can’t do that here. Nope. Neighbors right on top of you. No plate smashing. You have to leave the plate in the garage when you realize you’re out of luck with that.
I’m mad at mean people and people who don’t get it too. Autism is hard. For me. For my husband. For our families. For our son. Our poor son. If you knew how often he is paralyzed, just standing in our house looking at us because we don’t understand each other…well, you would cry. Probably a lot. But you won’t see that, because we can’t let you come over. The house is a wreck. All the time.
I’m mad today. And sad. And weepy. My kid is in jeopardy. (Which I learned to spell by saying “Jay-Oh-Par-Dee!”)
The teacher is on board with the dilemma. She is a good teacher, committed to finding a solution. But still, whatever she comes up with, it won’t be music or art. It won’t be anything that compels my kid to love school always and forever. Will it?
I’m mad at peanut allergies too. Not because anyone in our family has them, but because our school is a peanut free zone. I get it. Kids could die if they come in contact with peanuts. I don’t want to be responsible for making somebody die, but I want to send my kid to school with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and I can’t. So I’m mad. That’s one of the four or five foods he eats, you know?
I’m mad at Filippi’s Pizza too because it’s really good and I’ve been craving it for months, but it’s too far away and too complicated for me to get there. And they don’t serve anything my kid will eat (except croutons and ranch dressing), so it’s not someplace we ever get to go. I hate you, Filippi’s.
And speaking of going places with my kid. I love him, but I sure would love a break with my husband now and then. Why doesn’t it ever work out? When my mom has time, we always have a conflict and we have no other babysitters. It sucks. We qualify for respite care, but seriously, there is no way I would ever leave my wet tears son with someone I don’t know extremely well. Other moms in my shoes feel the same way. The problem is, everyone we know has their own giant schedule from hell. No time for other people’s kids, let alone a child who doesn’t communicate well and will probably miss the toilet when he pees. We’re screwed. No respite.
I’m mad at the DMV too. My license is up for renewal this year. Thank goodness. Really. My current picture is tired, surprised, resigned, fat and hideous. Ask me next time I see you. I won’t let you see it. I’m mad at the DMV because I know that getting a good picture requires a fight. They’re not too keen on snapping seconds, but there is no way I’m going through another four or five years with a horrible picture again. Won’t do it. So I’m stressed out about the confrontation. And it’s weeks away.
I’m mad at myself today too. Really mad. Mad for crying. Mad for raising my voice. Mad for wanting to break a plate. Mad for buying sample paint a week ago and still not getting it up on the wall in our bedroom. Mad for having tons of ideas and not finding the time or motivation to implement them. Just mad. And sad.
I miss my kid. 😐
Click here for the cuteness that is.