Good Times
Not gettin' hassled, not gettin' hustled. Don't I wish.
Yesterday's VD party went off without a hitch. It was complete and utter chaos, but the kids seemed to enjoy themselves, and there were no major snafus. But next time I plan a "HEART" bingo game, I will be sure to pre-determine a winning card and make sure those numbers get called before the adults involved start nervously looking at the clock and wondering if we're going to have a winner before St. Pat's Day.
The best part was that Bob got to participate and enjoy himself because I was there to be his "partner" and keep him occupied and busy. That made it all worth it.
There's no school today, but Kid Storage ("school-age child care") is open. I wasn't too concerned about Bob spending the whole day there, because he's been doing really well there recently. But I should have known you can't fuck with biology. Around 10:30, I got called by the site director asking me to talk to him and see if I could get him to chill, because he'd been up to his usual--running around like a psycho, being hateful and defiant. I talked to him and said I'd be there in half an hour with his lunch, and that in that 30 minutes, he needed to go find a corner and do something and chill. the. fuck. out. Or else he would have to leave, wouldn't be able to go on the field trip to the bounce house, and would have to sit in my office and be bored to death.
Apparently he spent the next 30 minutes kissing people and telling them he loved them and being a different kind of pain in the ass. (See "euphoria.")
But shortly after I got off the phone with him, I got another phone call. The shrink who couldn't squeeze him in before March had a cancellation today, and would we be interested in taking that 1:30 appointment?
Would we? Does a bear shit in the woods?
But then he'd miss the field trip.
This is what we commonly refer to as a "moral quandary." Bob needs a psych appointment. But Bob also needs to be allowed time to be a kid and do fun shit with other kids. Which he very often doesn't get to do, because he's in trouble. He has an appointment scheduled for next week. Will a few more days really make a huge difference in the grand scheme of things?
Guilt-ridden if I do; guilt-ridden if I don't.
"I'm sorry," I told them. "We won't be able to make it today. Please call me next week if there's another cancellation."
On the one hand, I feel like the horrible irresponsible parent who pumps her kid full of Children's DayQuil and sends him to school with the flu so he won't miss the class field trip. On the other hand, I feel like Bob deserves the chance to be "normal" once in a while, and I've just allowed him that.
I also feel guilty because, as there is no school on Monday and no Kid Storage (stupid dead presidents), db pulled his usual bullshit stunt and has decided to keep Bob an extra day this weekend as his "makeup time." I had a feeling this was coming, and I admit it was mighty white of him (to coin a racist Southern phrase) to email me as much beforehand.
I could argue this. I could drag the cops to his house Sunday evening, guns a'blazin', demanding my child be returned to me.
Would it do any good?
Probably not. No--definitely not. The best that could come from it would be I would be grudgingly given back a sullen, angry, upset Bob to contend with, and have to spend $50 for a sitter to watch him on Monday.
And as tired as I am of arguing with db (which is tantamount to arguing with a brick), I've decided to choose my battles wisely. This is not one I care enough to pursue. An extra 24 hours is, in the grand scheme of things, just not a big fucking deal.
Yesterday's VD party went off without a hitch. It was complete and utter chaos, but the kids seemed to enjoy themselves, and there were no major snafus. But next time I plan a "HEART" bingo game, I will be sure to pre-determine a winning card and make sure those numbers get called before the adults involved start nervously looking at the clock and wondering if we're going to have a winner before St. Pat's Day.
The best part was that Bob got to participate and enjoy himself because I was there to be his "partner" and keep him occupied and busy. That made it all worth it.
There's no school today, but Kid Storage ("school-age child care") is open. I wasn't too concerned about Bob spending the whole day there, because he's been doing really well there recently. But I should have known you can't fuck with biology. Around 10:30, I got called by the site director asking me to talk to him and see if I could get him to chill, because he'd been up to his usual--running around like a psycho, being hateful and defiant. I talked to him and said I'd be there in half an hour with his lunch, and that in that 30 minutes, he needed to go find a corner and do something and chill. the. fuck. out. Or else he would have to leave, wouldn't be able to go on the field trip to the bounce house, and would have to sit in my office and be bored to death.
Apparently he spent the next 30 minutes kissing people and telling them he loved them and being a different kind of pain in the ass. (See "euphoria.")
But shortly after I got off the phone with him, I got another phone call. The shrink who couldn't squeeze him in before March had a cancellation today, and would we be interested in taking that 1:30 appointment?
Would we? Does a bear shit in the woods?
But then he'd miss the field trip.
This is what we commonly refer to as a "moral quandary." Bob needs a psych appointment. But Bob also needs to be allowed time to be a kid and do fun shit with other kids. Which he very often doesn't get to do, because he's in trouble. He has an appointment scheduled for next week. Will a few more days really make a huge difference in the grand scheme of things?
Guilt-ridden if I do; guilt-ridden if I don't.
"I'm sorry," I told them. "We won't be able to make it today. Please call me next week if there's another cancellation."
On the one hand, I feel like the horrible irresponsible parent who pumps her kid full of Children's DayQuil and sends him to school with the flu so he won't miss the class field trip. On the other hand, I feel like Bob deserves the chance to be "normal" once in a while, and I've just allowed him that.
I also feel guilty because, as there is no school on Monday and no Kid Storage (stupid dead presidents), db pulled his usual bullshit stunt and has decided to keep Bob an extra day this weekend as his "makeup time." I had a feeling this was coming, and I admit it was mighty white of him (to coin a racist Southern phrase) to email me as much beforehand.
I could argue this. I could drag the cops to his house Sunday evening, guns a'blazin', demanding my child be returned to me.
Would it do any good?
Probably not. No--definitely not. The best that could come from it would be I would be grudgingly given back a sullen, angry, upset Bob to contend with, and have to spend $50 for a sitter to watch him on Monday.
And as tired as I am of arguing with db (which is tantamount to arguing with a brick), I've decided to choose my battles wisely. This is not one I care enough to pursue. An extra 24 hours is, in the grand scheme of things, just not a big fucking deal.
posted by Mitzi Green at 9:50 AM
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