The day that would not end.

You know what day it is, its Friday.  That means only one thing, I'm hooking up with Sunday over at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood for today.  Go on over and see how the rest of us play with Ryan.  

Ever have one of those days where you want it to end before you even get out of bed?  Yeah, that was this past Sunday.  I think it all started on Saturday because I washed my car.  I never wash my car.  But this past Saturday, I got a hair lodged up my ass and decided it was car washing day.

Five-fifteen Sunday morning I get bombed with both kids, "Mom!  There's thunder!  And lightening!  AND WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!  Scoot over."

Yeah, five-something in the morning.  

Then, "OMG today's the party for Jack.  We have to get ready for the party.  GET UP.  We have to get ready for the party!"  Forget about all the thunder and lightening and the dying stuff.  We have a party to go to.  

The party was not till four PM.  It was five AM.   

All day, "The party, the party, the party's today!  Hey mom what time is it now?  Is it time for the party?  Now what time is it?  Party time yet?"  

And all day I kept thinking, "I know these kids, I'm not too fond of these kids.  This is going to end in tears."  But since this was the only party he's been invited to all year, we had to go.  Saying NO was simply not an option.   

I pulled this out of Alex's backpack around noon.  You can call it a tornado, I call it foreshadowing.  

Look ma, a meso-cyclone! 

And then we went to the party, and true to form, the kids were little shits.  Of course they were.  Playing this game where you had to have a pass-code and they wouldn't let you in if you didn't know the pass-code.  Thing is, there was no pass-code.  They just said "no" to letting Alex join in.  

I caught one kid in the act and hissed, I actually hissed at him, "You let him in, do you hear me?  You let him in."  

But it was too late and the damage was already done, I wanted to gut-check every one of those kids.  Hard.  Gaw, they were such little assholes.  All I kept thinking was, "Is it wrong to gut-check an eight year old and if so, what would the jail time be?  I need to see if I can be away from my kids that long...." 

Alex was sad, hurt and confused...a meltdown ensued.  We went home but not before we ate our own bread sticks, watched a movie and gave everyone the proverbial middle finger---all out front of the play gym where the party was still going on.  

When we were leaving it started raining.  I got pinged there was a severe thunderstorm warning and right when we got home, this happened: 

 

(If you can't click on that because you're at work or if noise is an issue, I get it.  They issued a Tornado Warning and I was on the front porch tooling around with the kids.)

And then we lost our minds running down to the basement.  We all ran into each other and I would have been laughing, if it weren't for the simple fact we were running for our lives.  

Other than by the grace of God, I still don't know how we made it downstairs.  

Then I had another heart attack when Alex started running back upstairs to protect his i-thing from the tornado.  

You know how weird it is to see your street being called out as being in the direct line of impact?  Trust me when I say you don't want to know that feeling.  Ever.  Well, that's what my husband said.  I was outside taking pictures.  You sooo know I was.    

Then when it was all over, and the tornado fizzled, we went to bed but not before I had this vision of Ryan: 

Why yes, I do believe that would do the trick.  

And that is the true story of my last Sunday.

Thankfully there is nothing on the agenda for this weekend.  I suspect the kids will be bored and over it by dinnertime tonight... 

He said what? I wonder where he heard that from....

Today's Friday so can I get a big AMEN?  In the blogging world, or in the cool blogging world, that means we're doing horribly fun things with Ryan Gosling.  Visit Sunday over at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood and see what I'm talking about.

Alex's teacher met me at the flagpole for pickup yesterday afternoon.  I'll let that sink in for a moment.

Having the teacher come out and meet me at the flagpole used to make my stomach swirl with nausea.  A whole host of scenarios ran through my mind.  Did he lick someone?  Did he Tae Kwon Do anther kid?  Did he correct a teacher or tell them their lesson plan was inferior and subject to his review?  Or did he stop, drop and roll minus the fire?

You just never know.

Anyway, his teacher comes out to meet me every day now because we're in a sort of holding pattern.  We're stabilizing somewhere between full on benders and a variety stims.  He has about six stims going right now so in my mind I call it a six-pack.  Honestly, we're just biding out time till school lets out.

Fourteen days left if anyone's interested.  And yes, I'm counting each and every last one of them.

So she comes out of school with a small smile on her face, kind of laughing, so I knew it couldn't be that bad.

Alex?  Well, he wasn't smiling.  "Mom, Mrs. Smith says I said a bad word."

Fuck.  

"Err, you said a bad word?"  Now, a whole host of bad words went through my mind, rapid fire, in under a tenth of a second.  We all know I'm pretty fluent in the base vernacular of the English language.

My next thought was, "Please don't let it be the F-bomb, please don't let it be the F-bomb."

"Yeah Mom, Mrs. Smith says I used a bad word but its not fair.  You use it at home all the time."

Oh fuckety-fuck-fuck.  It was the F-bomb.  I'm so screwed. 

"I said I was pissed off and I got in trouble for it.  You told me it was OK to say I was pissed off when I was at home but now it's not OK to say it at school."

Oh thank you Baby Jesus.

Now his teacher turns and looks over at me, one eyebrow raised, questioning, "You let him say that at home?"

I turn and look at Alex and suddenly he had these big eyes, kinda like this:

Source

Well how can you resist that?  I couldn't lie and blame it on him.  I had to own it.

"Well, yes, I do let him say he's pissed-off when he's at home.  See, for the longest time Alex couldn't identify his emotions and had a hard time articulating how he was feeling.  Gaw, he just now started putting words to his emotions.  So when he was angry we made a scale from one to ten.  One was irritated and ten was super mad, like he was pissed off and ready to explode.  I thought it was important for him to correctly identify his emotional state, as he was feeling it, so we could work on the right calm down methods."

And that's the God's honest truth.

With that I give you my main man, Ryan.

On a different note, I wanted to thank Sunday for having me to her place yesterday.  It was a blast.  I want also thank those of you who went over and took the time to look, see and comment.  You have no idea what that means to me as your friendships are what pull me through.

If you still want to see it, I have it linked here.

And you totally know when his teacher was talking to me up there I was all, "I'm so going to blog about this."   And I did.

Squared vs Square Root. I don't know the difference either.

On Sunday night we get a weekly class update from Alex's teacher.  I normally glance at it and see what's going on for the next week.  Then I print it out, show it to Alex and get confirmation that he's read it.  Then I get confirmation that he's understood it.  And then get confirmation that he knows what's really going on for the next week.

And then I use four pieces of tape and tape that damn thing up on the wall so I don't forget and he doesn't forget.

That weekly newsletter is my lifeline.

So little alarm bells went off in my head when I saw the words: TALENT SHOW THURSDAY.  I immediately asked Alex what it was all about and he wasn't fussed.  A little annoyed that I was asking about it, I think.

You know me, I couldn't let it rest.  I had to find out, these things tend to blow up in my face.  *See the Muffins With Mom's post if you don't believe me.*

"Hey Alex, it says there will be a Talent Show on Thursday.  What are you going to do?"  I was getting a little worked up because he was more interested in his computer game.

"Mom, I have it all figured out.  I know what I'm going to do."  And he went back to his game.

Pffft.

Clearly I had to get a little more creative.  "Alex honey, do you think you could tell me what you're planning on doing for the talent show?  Maybe I can help you."

My panties were in a total bunch about this damn talent show and I was going to find out what he was doing.

"Well no mom, you can't help me.  It has to do with math and you're not good at math.  I'm going to explain the difference between square roots and squaring a number.  Take the number nine.  Nine squared is eighty-one but the square root of nine is three.  See the difference?  Then I'm going to take questions and they can quiz me.  It's math and it's going to be fun."

Someone give me the answers.....please?!?  

To which I found my calculator, figured out he was right and said, "You're right, I'm not good at math."

And Thursday, I was in the classroom and I saw him do his talent and he explained the difference between squared and square roots and he had fun with it.

No, he rocked it.

The other kids and I, we didn't have a fucking clue what he was talking about but he was having fun.

No, he had the time of his life.



OMG, OMG, OMG, you totally have to go over to Sunday's place tomorrow.  I'm so going to be guest posting.   I'm going to be guest posting at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood!!!!  OMG, OMG, OMG!!!

I may have to wear a Poise and use it, I'm so excited.  And I think she even kept my cuss words in.  *Swoon.*   


There, now I'm done begging.  I must go and hook on Facebook...yes, that's you're cue to go "like" me, so you can see me at Sunday's tomorrow!!!  See how I did that?  That was awesome....

I'm in the dumps, somebody get me out of here.

So our little world is crumbling all around us and I'm doing everything I can to help Alex hang on by a thread.  His SPED teacher went on maternity leave yesterday and he'll be without her for the remainder of the year.  

One day into this and he's already had his first meltdown while at OT and it was a good one.  A doozy even.  So bad he lost his mind and didn't even know it. I was just thankful it wasn't at my house.    

We talked about it later and he said, "I don't even know what happened to me," and started crying.  

He's brought back some old stims and is showing all the signs of being under a large amount of stress.  

I'm doing what I can but nothing hurts worse than seeing your own child come slowly unhinged, bit by bit, right before your very eyes.  

His General Education teacher has gone above and beyond and for that I am eternally grateful.  She's been working with me, doing what she can to help him in so many ways possible.  She truly gets Alex and knows how hard these next few weeks are going to be.  I wish she could really know how much her support and understanding means to me.

I have to switch gears hear because I fear I can't get through the rest of this post without bawling.  Instead, I'll give you a picture of what Alex likes to do best.    

Double fisting, baby.  Double fisting.
I-touch and I-pad .

And I know this sounds silly but look, no cuss words in the whole post.

No offense, I much prefer the posts in which I cuss.