Wednesday, September 12, 2012

At least the transition to school goes well.. right?

Michael went to school twice already.  In theory those mornings would be for me to relax and recover.  That was the plan even before we faced the autism.  Just two weeks, with three mornings each, for me.  Now it had become even more important to get that time.  To not have someone around that you need to constantly engage, constantly be watchful for, with no communication unless for his wants.
I would get a small amount of time to load up my batteries and do all that again as soon as he was home.  Day one at school, he did not react at all to a stranger leading him out of the car and into the classroom.  I hoped and prayed that this was not total apathy, but just the fact that he had seen Joseph being lead in the same way a hundred times.

Day two.. some small protesting that was finished already by the time he was past the car.  This reassured me.  A normal separation reaction, and then a day of fun.  When I picked him up, he didn't want to leave. That hurt, but was reassuring as well.

Day three: he starts screaming the moment he sees the teacher.  She wonders if he is warm.  I say he MIGHT be teething to stave off the inevitable conclusions of illness or whatever. Michael does have trouble teething. What does Michael NOT have trouble with?   I am so tired of Michael and trouble.  I want Michael and effortless.  Effortless SOMETHING.

35 minutes later, just as I am about to lay down for a nap, because for some unfathomable reason Joseph had to get out of bed four times last night and I have my very first class to teach this night...  the bell rings.  They really think he is teething so badly. He is crying.  They can't distract him.  Can I come and get him.  I step in the car and drive, trying not to cry. He is crying.  The moment he is in the car seat it starts settling.  The moment I drive away, he stops. I go to target and pick up some cola.  I will need caffeine to get through this day, and to stop myself from screaming at the students how God is playing some cruel game with my life that I can not figure out.

I drive home, and have a hysterical fit the moment I drive into the garage.  I want my life back.  I wanted, needed those hours.  I can not have somethign else go wrong. This transition to school  must work. Please God, have mercy.  End my misery.
I am home, typing away at the computer, in the background is the incessant chatter of a little boy, making no sense.  I need more.  I can not live like this.  It needs to get better.  Now.


Mat. Emily said...

Oh, Eva. My heart is breaking for you. Is there a way for you to call the school and let them know that he was fine once you got home and that it is just transition?

Beth said...

I honestly have no advice, but I wanted to let you know I am praying for you.

Olga said...

Eva I am going to offer my rosary for you. Hugs