Life on the Frontline – week 32

lotf A weekly blog from a family made by adoption, warmed by the laughter, broken by the sadness, held together by love with a big dollop of hope, oh, and often soaked in mummy tears.

After such an almost perfect week last week, it was bound to only go downhill. Okay it wasn’t really all bad but on one day, Wednesday, I really wish I hadn’t bothered getting out of bed.

The day began with me feeling a little bit under the weather. I knew I was struggling and I just needed the children off to school, so I could just take care of myself. Wrong. Small didn’t want to go to school. It wasn’t the normal little bit of “do I have to go?” It was more “I can’t do it today”.

I tried, believe me I really did try to get him to go, but I could see he was getting himself into such a state. Once the tears came in full flow I knew he just needed to be at home for the day.

“I know some day’s things just feel really hard to do, I feel like that today too, so let’s just have a down day together”.

So whilst negotiating the outcome of his day I was also negotiating him into the car, so I could attend a necessary doctor’s appointment. The car park was jam packed; the rain was pelting down so I abandoned my car in a questionable parking space. Ten minutes later I returned to find one of those lovely little yellow stickers on my winds screen, I swear the traffic warden must have been waiting for me.

At home I decided to calm with a cup of tea. On opening the fridge, a large glass jar of mayonnaise launched itself at me and onto the floor. It smashed scattering mayonnaise and glass shards all over the kitchen floor. This situation was only made worse by one of our cats deciding that mayonnaise was her new favourite food, even if it did have tiny spikes of glass in it.

I finally managed to sink into the sofa with my cup of tea, and was just thinking about getting my crocheting out when the phone rang.

“Could you come and get Tall? he’s not having a good day”

I had to really restrain the urge to swear at this point. Of course I would come and get him. Now what to do with Small? who was now back in his pyjamas and firmly rooted in front of a film. As the school is just around the corner, I decided I could be there and back in five minutes, so left him with the phone and my phone number.

When I got to school no one knew where Tall was, he’d gone walk about. When we did find him, he walked in completely the opposite direction of me, not listen to my calls for him to come home. Brilliant just what I needed.

I now had to phone my husband, to leave his office and go home to Small, as I had no idea how long I’d be at school. The last time we’d been here the police had to be called in. My husband was less than pleased to have his busy day interrupted; I knew I’d have to face a monologue on my parenting later.

I sat with a cup of tea and waited for news of Tall. It was decided that chasing him around the corridors was not the answer. Half an hour later and I was very relieved that he made the right choice to come with me.

As I said earlier, I was not in a good place myself on this day and once home my therapeutic mode had been switched off. I was unimpressed with Tall’s behaviour. Not the being called to come and get him but the resistance to come with me when I arrived. I told him so. He was very upset. I realised now that I needed to calm. So with a little back tracking and little more care I eventually discovered what had happened.

Lesson two Tall was due to have a positive play session with a support worker he really likes. She didn’t turn up and there was no explanation as to why. Confused, he’d returned to learning support, where none of his known support workers were available for him. His pastoral manager was also not in school and he was left feeling completely abandoned.

“It felt like everyone had left me and I felt really sad and angry”

I was no longer cross with him; my heart broke for him, knowing that through a tiny bit of oversight from the persons involved, a massive painful emotion had been triggered in my boy.

He’d not been able to verbalise this to anyone in school, so no one had understood his pain.

In the end Tall, Small and I snuggled under a duvet on the sofa and put our day behind us.

The next day both boys went off to school happy and without resistance, recharged and ready.


In Other News

We’ve solved the maths teacher problem, Tall has been moved into the next set up with a teacher that he really likes. He said the maths in the lower set was too easy for him anyway.

Small got his classroom certificate this week, for all his hard work and being kind to other people.

I solved a crime this week; we had a scooter go missing from outside school, when it was left over night. My Miss Marple skills lead me to a year six boy at the primary school, who owned up very quickly when he realised who he was dealing with.

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