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.
“Get the hell out of my bedroom” was the charming response I got from Tall when I attempted to get him up for school on Monday. It was a response repeated each time I entered and tried to rouse him from his pit. In the end, as I had no understanding of what exactly was wrong, I suspected nothing except tiredness, I delivered my consequences for not attending school and decided I would leave it at that.
Five minutes later Tall stumbled down the stairs, bog eyed and very grumpy. He swore a couple of times and left the house, without his school bag, lunch or the homework he’d spent a couple of hours on that weekend. I emailed school so they knew what they had in store.
Monday afternoon, he bounced back through the front door after a really good day and very apologetic for his morning behaviour. He had just been very tired. I made it clear that being tired wasn’t a sufficient reason for being as rude as he had been but I did feel relieved for his good day and simple explanation. I suppose it is a delightful combination of adolescent hormones and taking things out on those closest to you.
Tuesday morning it was Small’s turn. He didn’t want to go, as he hadn’t the previous Tuesday. I realised there was a definite pattern to this behaviour, same classes same teachers. He didn’t want to go and that was it, no amount of persuading or encouragement was going to work. I probed a little as to what the problem could be and I finally got something to work with. His maths and drama teacher are at the moment one and the same and he has both these lessons on a Tuesday.
“She’s stressy” he told me.
“Why do you think that, did she say or do something?”
“In maths she told me I couldn’t leave the class ten minutes early if I didn’t finish my work. I didn’t understand the work we were doing and so I copied the person next to me”
“Oh did this make you feel worried?”
Small is allowed to leave each lesson ten minutes early to visit pastoral and check in with them. I assured Small I would speak with school about how he was feeling and we would get things sorted for him.
Eventually we left for school about half an hour late, Small still a little unsure. On arrival at school, students were wandering between tutor group and first lesson.
“I’m not going in yet” said Small.
“I’m not being seen with you in those yoga leggings” he says nodding towards the lively patterned lycra covering my legs.
So I walk into school alone and Small follows once all students are safely in their lessons. More signs of adolescence starting to set in.
So after two really tough mornings I am apprehensive on Wednesday when I wake, as Small is supposed to be getting the bus to school, for the first time. The private hire minibus has agreed to collect him from outside the house, which is really helpful. As I come downstairs to make myself a cup of tea, I realise Small is already up and downstairs and dressed. He is in a fine mood and I think excited.
Tall also gets up with little prising or persuading and is also in an upbeat mood.
By quarter past eight both boys are out the house and off to school.
Well if only it could always be that easy.
In Other News
Small has got the bus to school every morning; I have a whole extra hour in my day now.
Tall and Dad enjoyed a trip to robot wars this weekend.
Small and his girlfriend “hung out” together on Friday at the park and then ate chips together.