I thought Little Man was doing better at school. It really seemed he was doing better at school. Less and less unfinished work is coming home. Three days out of five, he comes out of school with a good report, a smile on his face. He seems more relaxed. The anxiety level at home is less than it was at the beginning of the year too, outside of the homework debacle of a couple weeks ago. But then the phone rang on Tuesday. Yeah, suck it, we’re totally not in the clear.
He started crying in class the other day and went to his SAI’s office for a bit. He pulled it together after about five minutes, and went back to class, but was back with her within half an hour. He told her he’s really anxious, feels like he’s in a hole he can’t get out of. His being sick week before last did not help his situation at all. It spun him into something of a depression, and definitely higher anxiety. Add to that being pulled from class frequently for all the evaluations for his tri-annual. The kid can’t catch a break. And then he has to deal with having me for his mother.
I’ve let scheduling an appointment with a new counselor slide. I KNOW he needs to talk with someone, and he needs new tools, social skill development. Half the things that come out of his mouth are what I would call “snarky”. I know he yells at kids at school frequently, whenever they’re being too loud or are just irritating him (in his perspective). That’s not going to win any popularity contests. I’ve failed him. I know he needs this, but I get complacent when things seem to have settled. Sigh. Sweep it under the rug and maybe, just maybe, things will go back to how awesome they were last year.
I’m just tired. And I’m frustrated. I haven’t been great in my responses to his challenges. It’s hard to tell sometimes if he’s manipulating, intentionally being a jerk, or if his behavior in that moment is out of his control. I want a crystal ball or mindreading skill to be able to figure it out correctly every single time. There are days I just don’t have the energy to face it. Then I lose it, and I yell or I cry, which totally does not help, and I know it, even in the midst of whatever’s happening.
He is doing better. It is relative. He’s not as bad as he was a month ago. But I know there are things I need to add to his repertoire of therapies, help I need to get for him. Today is just one of those days I’m wondering why this has to be so hard? Why did God entrust me with this child? And are we all going to survive?