Oh little college girl, you knew nothing of tired.
These last couple of weeks have been brutal. Hurricane. No power. Power. Inside storm shower. Cleaning carpets and couch. Again. Again. Again. Nor’easter. Autism. Pneumonia. Bronchitis. Weird periods. Loud chewing.
Yesterday Abby had another ENT visit. This doctor seems to think that her hearing loss is probably congenital.
Loud Yo Gabba Gabba forever.
Last night the wind howled. I stayed up filling out 32 pages of paperwork for Abby’s evals, and even after they were finished I could not sleep. Abby woke up coughing about 4,000 times. In between quieting her, I could not quiet my thoughts. The worries that I can only hear when my brain is quiet. Casey was up at 4 for the day. Lance got up at six to get them ready for Casey’s neurology appointment in Providence.
This morning had a marathon evaluations and IFSP meeting. It lasted over 3 hours. Her fine motor skills are AT AGE LEVEL. Bam. Take that. Everything else, well, she’s got Down syndrome. Ain’t no thang (can I say that? Does it work? No. Probably not). IFSP’s are a lot like IEPs. You talk about everything your child can’t do. They just can’t emphasize the diagnosis enough.
During the meeting, I felt a very large zit on the side of my neck. Before I realized what I was doing, I scratched that beyotch off. A second later I had a large stream up blood running down my neck. Awesome job, Lexo.
As soon as that was over, I went to lay on the couch for a minute when the phone rang.
Casey’s school. He’d been freaking out for TWO HOURS and they didn’t know what to do. Nothing was working. Feeling as though I’ve already been beaten almost to death with a hammer, I just told them to hang tight. I scooped up Abby and went to get him.
The teacher and the principal were in her office with Casey. He had thrown his shoes against the walls and was curled up in a ball on a chair weeping bitterly. I wanted to be mad at him. But I knew that his freakout was because his day didn’t go as scheduled. Can’t mess with that part of his autism. He can’t just go to school during math instead of at the beginning and have it be okay.
I can’t reward the behavior, either (he tried to fire the teacher, which is just a tad hilarious). And punishment for Casey at home is punishment for me.
His brothers just got home, and I now have to go normal mother things like homework and snack and love and affection.
I’d kill to only be pissed off right now about having to do homework with my kids or the struggles to get them to do anything around the house. I’d love to just be worried about what is for dinner and getting the house clean. I’d love to be bored at some sport practice or stressed out to making it to both dance and karate on time.
And it’s only now that I draw my knees into the fetal position. I’ve given every last piece of me to the stresses of this day I have nothing left to give. My typical kids get so much less of me than they deserve, and I don’t know how to balance that. I feel like I’ve been surviving for so long that my kids won’t know how to just live. I hate that.
I’m tired. I’m so tired.