The plan was to stick to the plan to get ready for school. 8 weeks of carefully plotted tasks that would keep me from completely flipping out when school starts. (because you know I will, no matter how much I promise I've got this under control) This week is week 6. Week 6, I was supposed to get backpacks, organize Walter's room, and write an introduction letter to Alex's teacher.
Walmart.com is the devil. No. Not walmart.com... Google. and more the Anti-Christ than the devil. Google is trying to take over the world. Google said the reason I can't check out at walmart.com is because I need Google Chrome. I hate Google Chrome. Every time someone downloads Google Chrome onto my computer, I get porn ads. It sucks. (no pun intended)
I can't do anything with Walter's room because Walter has no furniture. I was supposed to figure that out. I haven't. I did scrape up a few things from around the house- a book case, a night table, 2 wall shelves, some pictures, and a couple of lamps. He has his mattress and his dresser. He's happy with what he has but I was hoping to get him a real bed (frame) and maybe a desk. ...We took some deck chairs out of the neighbor's trash (yes, we did.) and I have an end table he can use for a desk... I forgot about that one. But he still needs a bed. and I'm waiting on my husband to have time to cut this rod (for hanging clothes) to hang over his dresser, it's 68" and I need it to be 58". ...*sigh* stuck. So, that's going to have to wait.
The other thing I was going to do is work on the introduction letter to Alex's teacher. I think we're supposed to have the same one we had last year, which is cool, so what do I need to say? all she needs is an update on his mad skilz. what he learned over the summer. so far, he went down the ramp into the swimming pool, started letting me read books to him, sits quietly during story time with snacks and a seatbelt and doesn't eat his stickers. There's not much to tell her yet, and I don't know that any of it will help HER help HIM. seems I've been big on planning and little on parenting this summer. and then there's always the chance that he might have a new teacher. but we're not even going to think about that right now.
So, I thought maybe I ought to wait on Alex and work on Goofy instead. and Good Lord, where would I even start!?!? The child is a mess! and what if his insurance isn't fixed by then? sending an unmedicated Goofy to first grade? No amount of supposedly helpful information will save that woman. Last time I sent him to school unmedicated was the first time he tried kindergarten... that lasted 2 weeks. I'm supposed to love the child unconditionally and I want to wring his unmedicated neck! and even on medication he's a PITA. There's so much that goes into first grade... so many places he will be struggling. I don't even know where to start- which is why I put the letters high on the list, so I would have time to think it through but .... I can't even get started! Every time I even think about starting, I get a ball of panic in my chest.
It's not that I'm worried about the people who are taking care of my Goofy one the way I am with Alex, I'm worried about the hell he's going to put them through and the hell we're going to go through trying to get him the education that he's entitled to by law. 504, IEP, General Ed... I don't even care as long as he gets what he needs. But how to go about that? I'm lost.
Hoping for some inspiration, I look back over last year's letter. Not a good idea. I look back at that and think about the hopes I had that all we had to do was simple (God, I was so naïve.), that we would get help and everything would be ok and then I think of the whole year- everything we tried, everything that failed (and that's just the start of January. more came after and then even more in March)- and look ahead to a year that's bound to be harder than last year with the increased work load, higher expectations, and longer hours and... I'm battle weary.
Is there anything I can say to her that's going to make any difference? Would it be better to save my breath and let her find out for herself? Find out for myself? Pfft, as if I don't already know every single note I will get home and the phone calls that will come pouring in begging me to get that child to a priest. Maybe if I don't warn her ahead of time, I won't get the "oh, he's fine!" or the "he looks so normal!" That would be a welcome change. *sigh*
Tomorrow. I'll start tomorrow.