You know you think you are out of the thick of things with
one stressful issue and life decides to slam you in the face with several more?
I am meeting my stress quota and then some these last several weeks. The end of
August it was dealing with Chica Marie’s school and fighting to get her where
she needed to be, the stress being from BCCYS dragging their feet on taking
care of business. That got worked out on the first so the weekend of Labor Day
was supposed to be one to relax and enjoy only it turned into mega stress with
Primero declaring he wanted to absolve the adoption and his aunt and uncle were
willing to take him in. It continued into the following week with avoidance by
his aunt and uncle and a very unsatisfactory conversation with promise to meet
and present a united front to Primero that just never happened. There was a little
lull in stressful activity last week, just run-of-the-mill lies from Chica Marie
and mouthing off issues with Primero, bookended with a busy, busy weekend followed
by a hectic week.
This week was already queued up to be long and tiring due to
my Professional Development Institute training in Harrisburg two days of the
week. Those two days I have to get up an hour earlier than normal in order to
get kids where they need to go and hit the road by no later than 7 am or I will
get stuck in traffic getting into the city. The difference this week was that
Chica Marie was in school and not daycare, as before. My plan was for Primero
to walk her to school, then walk to his school and I would give him an excuse
note for being late, since they both start school at the same time, 8:05. But,
my carefully orchestrated plans were all for naught when I got an unexpected
phone call Tuesday morning.
A friend of mine works at the school Primero attends. He
works in the attendance office, to be exact. I was on break from work,
chit-chatting with a few co-workers, when my phone started buzzing in my
pocket. My caller ID showed my friend was calling me, which was strange for the
time of day. I answered and was shocked to hear him ask me to come down to the
school right away because there was an incident involving Primero. “What sort
of incident?” I asked, incredulous that Primero had anything to do with it, not
being the type of kid to get in trouble at school (this was his first time since he lived with me - he said he was in trouble when he was younger because he would get in fights). My friend couldn’t tell me
much, only that some student had been caught with an alcoholic beverage and
Primero was somehow involved. I was sure it was all some kind of misunderstanding
and perhaps Primero was involved as a bystander. I raced from work to the
school, my nerves on edge, adrenaline churning in my stomach.
At the school I was escorted to a room with another mother by one of the
security guards. There was some confusion as to who we belonged
to and the other mother only spoke Spanish. I asked her for the name of her
child and recognized the name as one of Primero’s friends. When I told them my son’s
name, one of the security guards made a face and said, “Oh, Primero” in a way
that let me know he wasn’t a fan. He handed me Primero’s phone and indicated there
was an issue with Primero and his phone, but didn't elaborate until later that Primero had his phone out and was asked to hand it over but put it in his pocket instead.
The three members of the disciplinary
team walked us to a conference room but then decided they wanted to do things
individually. So, they moved me back to the office where I sat and stewed for what
felt like eternity. I could hear snippets of the conversation in English and Spanish and gathered this mother was dealing with some difficulties with her son, who was one of 5 children. Eventually, one man came into the room and announced he was
going to get Primero. I still had no clue what was going on so when Primero
walked into the room and defiantly declared he drank, I was aghast. This was so
unexpected and so maddening and what a freaking mess!
Primero signed to me he would tell me the story later as I
sat and listened to what his punishment would be. He was going to receive 5
days of in school suspension which they were going to serve doing community
service, moving furniture around on one of the upper floors in the school. My question
and concern were for Primero’s academics, not that he shouldn’t have to serve
punishment, but would his school work be sent home? To my utter disbelief, I
was told he would need to earn points during his time served in order to earn
his school work. If he doesn’t earn enough points, he would fail the class for
that day. Er, what? How on earth does that make sense? Primero is not a strong student,
he struggles so as it is, why would you make this nearly insurmountable for him
to succeed in his classes this semester? I was told, then he shouldn’t have
gotten in trouble. Wow! So, because he was a stupid teenager and did something
stupid (took a sip of a drink a friend gave him), he should pay for it with his
education? He isn’t a criminal and I’m fairly certain, being a first-time offender,
he would have been given a much lighter sentence by the legal authorities than
the school. Not to mention the way some of the supposed professionals treated
him and the other kids (there were 5 total) their first day of in school
suspension was unacceptable and unprofessional.
I’m meeting with the IEP director and Primero’s guidance
counselor on Monday to talk about a plan for his graduation. I’m so worried and
this whole thing with his punishment has me totally frazzled. Do they want this
kid to drop out because he simply can’t succeed given the mountains thrown in
front of him? I’m hoping my meeting on Monday will help me feel more calm about
the whole thing.
So, as a consequence of his actions, I needed to find someone
to take Chica Marie to school Wednesday and Thursday mornings because Primero
could not be late. I was frantic, reaching out to everyone I thought might be
able to do it, including our neighbor and my parents. I spoke to my dad first
and he said he would talk to my mom and have her call me. We spoke when we were
on our way to Primero’s back-to-school night. At the back-to-school night I had
hoped to meet with his teachers but when we got there, a little before 6 we
were told the teachers were only there from 5-6 and had already left. This was
not clear in their message or email to us and I was irritated. We sat through
the Title 1 meeting, which was mandatory but poorly attended, and then left.
As the night wore on, my cousin replied to my plea on Facebook by agreeing
to get Chica Marie to school Thursday morning after work (she works night shift),
so I was only left with Wednesday to find a helper. I decided to call my parents again because I
was really running out of hope. BIG mistake. My dad didn’t answer right away
but called me back not long after I called him. When I answered I heard my mom
in the background, “She expects you to drive all the way down there like you
have nothing better to do.” I became so angry I just hung up the phone. I text
my mom, telling her I would be sure to never ask them for help again, that I
recognize we are nothing to her and how I foolishly expected she would want to
be the kind of grandparents we had had in my dad’s parents as children. My
grandparents were forever helping my parents by taking one kid to some practice
or other event or picking someone else up – when you have three kids involved
in various activities it was inevitable they would need to be in three
different places at the same time. My mom text me back how she was sorry for
being such an awful mother and grandmother, next time she will just get written
up for being late so she can take *MY* foster kid to school. And my
grandparents only lived a few minutes away, on the same farm, not 30 minutes
away like they do.
My dad called back and agreed to take Chica Marie to school
the next morning. About 5 minutes after our conversation the neighbor called
and agreed to take her so I told my dad he didn’t have to do it. I just couldn’t
believe how nasty my mom was, without reason. First of all, she could have text
me or called me to say she starts work at 8 and therefore wouldn’t be
available. Second of all, she could have made sure my dad wasn’t on the phone
when she launched into her complaint about me asking for help. And third of all, she could have
apologized for saying what she did and recognized that I wasn’t asking to be a
jerk, I knew it was an inconvenience, but I really needed help. She did none of
those things. She also didn’t respond when I text her an apology. And, the
thing is, she probably won’t ever admit she did anything wrong; making me feel
like crap is ok but making her feel bad is the end of the world. It certainly
was not what I needed that night.
Wednesday was picnic day for my PDI group. It was a lovely late
summer day and we had a really great time with the various activities, including
a fascinating tour of the Fort Hunter estate replete with a live archeological dig.
But, I didn’t sleep well the night before and I was up super early. By the end
of the day I had not a drop of energy left. My limbs felt heavy, my head
throbbed in pain, my eyelids drooped, and I struggled to stay attentive on the long
drive home. I fell asleep early and slept fitfully, as I do most nights. I’m in
such a sleep deficit that I almost never feel rested.
It’s finally Friday now and I’m glad this week is ending. We
have only a few things planned for this weekend, one being Chica Marie’s first
karate class. I’m supposed to go to my Bible study tonight but I honestly don’t
know if I will be able to stay awake. I should try again to make amends with my
mom but I’m still upset about her lack of empathy and zero support for me.
Today I have been questioning myself if mom was always this way and it’s only
being away from her, living on my own, that has shown me what has always been
true?
To say I’m tired in an understatement. I’m completely worn
out. If you believe in the idea that bad things come in threes, this would be
the third and hopefully the final bad thing. But, I know life to be tricky.
Like waves pounding the shoreline, life never gives us a break; we are never
given a moment to breathe and get our feet back under ourselves before the next
wave knocks us down. There is simply no rest for the weary.
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