The first three days of school were better than I’d dared to hope, and when I walked Monkey over to school yesterday, I decided to stop in and chat with his teacher for a minute. She confirmed that all was well and that she was pleasantly surprised at how problem-free it had been, so far.
“Oh, just WAIT,” I laughed. “We’re still in the honeymoon period! Don’t be lulled into a false sense of security!” And we chuckled together and talked about school supplies and then I walked back home with a spring in my step, no idea exactly how prophetic I’d just been.
It’s probably better that way, but still. The afternoon didn’t so much surprise me as it LEAPT AT MY THROAT and left me bleeding out on the floor. Oops!
I could make this into a long, drawn-out story, but I really think the Cliff Notes version saves time and drives the horror home just as well.
1) Unbeknownst to me, at the end of the day Monkey’s parapro has been leaving the class a few minutes before dismissal to help do hall duty as the kids leave. If I’d known that, I might’ve suggested YEAH, NO. Because if it takes all of your energy to hold yourself together for the school day, when do you think you are going to be MOST LIKELY to completely lose your crap? The last few minutes, when everyone is tired and antsy and chaotic.
2) At the end of yesterday, Monkey’s teacher decided the class would play a math game. While I don’t presume to speak for all Aspies, for Monkey any sort of intellectual competition is often the fast track to How To Piss Off Your Aspie. First, he’s very rigid about rules, and WOE BETIDE anyone who (he feels) breaks a rule. Second, he doesn’t understand why everyone isn’t as smart as he is, so tends to find it truly baffling/amusing when another kid doesn’t do well. And third—oh, Monkey, my filterless wonder—my darling son is unlikely to keep his opinions to himself.
3) I’m sure you’re shocked to learn that he felt a transgression occurred and hilarity did NOT ensue. Nor was anyone particularly sympathetic to him after he called another kid stupid.
4) While this was happening—and I was still blissfully unaware!—Bad Things were starting to happen in my corner of the world. I, um, may have had food poisoning. You don’t want to know any more than that.
5) By the time Monkey arrived home, I was, uh, barely holding myself together, and the story unfolded as he raged and wept and I tried to figure out what, exactly, had happened. I managed to get him settled and an email sent off to the school.
6) And then Chickadee missed the bus. Because it was a super-awesome day for THAT to happen, on top of everything else. Fortunately, she called home to let me know. Unfortunately, I was, uh, indisposed when she called and she didn’t leave a message. When she showed up at home early (she caught a ride with a neighbor) and told me what had happened, I realized that the neighbor probably thinks I’m a crackhead. “I know my mom’s home but she’s not answering the home phone or the cell. Oh, look, there’s her car. Weird. Thanks for the ride!” May have to do some damage control there, later.
All’s well that ends well, I suppose. I’m no longer sick (at the very least, I’m empty) (you’re welcome!), I’ve spoken to the teacher and I think we got Monkey’s situation ironed out, and Chickadee seems to just find it amusing that maybe the neighbors think I’m a druggie or agoraphobic. Awesome.
In other news, I’m back on the fitness train, sort of, though let’s all hope that next week is a better week in every possible way, shall we? Yes.