Happenings of the week:

Monday, 9/1/14 – I spent much of the day putting the final touches on the All About Me documents for the boys. This is a one sheet, front and back, description of the boys’ strengths, challenges, current therapies, goals, triggers, calming strategies, and so on. The idea is to give it to everyone in the school who interacts with that boy, so they might have a clue how to respond when said boy melts down in the cafeteria over a brown spot on his apple. You know, hypothetically.

Tuesday, 9/2/14 – Zoo Keeper’s first day of school. We all walked to school together to drop him off. BamBam told everyone we passed on the way, “I’m five and my brother is eight and my parents are 45.” I’m not sure why he felt they needed this information, but I’m pretty sure he eased the anxiety for a few parents by making them laugh. For a moment, anyway.

We love Zoo Keeper’s teacher and he had a great day. I spent the day trying to write emails to various teachers and tie up loose ends while BamBam talked at me. All day. I didn’t get much of anything done. When Sparky emailed me to ask if I’d like to go to lunch on Friday, I managed to reply, “You know when my eyes do that thing? They’re doing it now. I’ll let you know later.”

Oh, and I got the reports back from the neuropsychologist. Yes, I started to read them even though I knew I shouldn’t. Because apparently I’ve forgotten the gut punch that is reading about all the help your child needs summed up in 17 pages. Each. This time with brand new diagnoses for each boy. BamBam now has three diagnoses; Zoo Keeper has five. I’ll probably talk about it more when I am up to reading them again.

After we picked Zoo Keeper up, there was a moment that we were all three playing Hay Day on iPads. Then, all of a sudden, they were both playing on my iPad, with theirs both still running the music out of sync, with BamBam in my lap and Zoo Keeper pressed in close to him by my side. BamBam keeps yelling for me to look at something on the screen, but all I can see is the back of his head. And all I can think is, “How the hell did I get here?”

Yes, I'm reusing this image. It applies even more this week. Image: LL school punishment by eddie-grrl CC License {image is of a girl writing "I will not bite." on a whiteboard}

Yes, I’m reusing this image. It applies even more this week.
Image: LL school punishment
by eddie-grrl

CC License
{image is of a girl writing “I will not bite.” on a whiteboard}

Wednesday, 9/3/14 – BamBam’s first day of school. He was fine, even excited, until it was time to follow the line into the classroom. He had gotten it into his head that Zoo Keeper was going with him and they’d be in the same class. So he melted right down. One of the moms who’s daughter is in Zoo Keeper’s class walked by and told BamBam how much fun kindergarten in his teacher’s class is, but that only made him cry harder. I just hugged him for about 10 minutes while Sparky took Zoo Keeper to his classroom. I didn’t really know what to do.

When Sparky came back, I picked BamBam up and took him into the office. He had calmed down to the point of sniffles into my neck by this time. I pointed out his former preschool teacher who had come to help him settle in, but he refused to even look at her. I told the school secretary that we were late. I was pretty emotional and unable to get many more words out, so she misunderstood my meaning and told me she would take him to class. His whole body stiffened as she reached for him and I managed to tell her that wouldn’t work. I felt really bad for her in that moment because she didn’t seem to know what to do any more than I did. She asked if I was just going to take him home. Uh, no.

At that point, I remembered why I had come into the office: to get his special education teacher. When he started at preschool three years ago, it took his special ed teacher there and me 20 minutes just to get him in the building and, once in the classroom, she sat with him on her lap crying just inside the door for I don’t know how long. I knew I needed that kind of help again, so I asked the secretary to call the special ed teacher to the office and took BamBam in the hall where Sparky was to wait.

The special ed teacher was there in a flash. She said hello to BamBam and showed him the folder with his picture pinned to the front. His face lit up and he took the folder from her to look at it. She asked him if he was ready to go to class now. He said yes and jumped down immediately, took her hand, and walked off. I don’t think he even said goodbye to us.

Maybe by middle school he’ll just cry for five minutes in the car.

BamBam may have snapped out of it in a flash, but I was a wreck. I had told a few people that I would go to the first day coffee after drop off. I told Sparky there was no way I could go sit and listen to a bunch of parents talking about how easily their kids had gone off to kindergarten with no problems at all. Not without somebody getting a spork in the eye.

So we walked home and he went to work. I had errands to run and it’s an early release day, so I couldn’t just sit around, which was probably a good thing.

I’ve been driving around on said errands listening to Jonathan Coulton’s Skullcrusher Mountain on repeat because it fits my mood. Specifically this bit:

I made this half-pony, half-monkey monster to please you
But I get the feeling that you don’t like it
What’s with all the screaming?
You like monkeys, you like ponies
Maybe you don’t like monsters so much
Maybe I used too many monkeys
Isn’t it enough to know that I ruined a pony making a gift for you?

That may have been an over-share of my inner coping mechanisms. Oh, well, in for a penny and all, so here’s Jonathan Coulton singing the whole song:

Disturbing? Disturbingly AWESOME!