The mature, grownup side of me was like; "sure!", because it's a good idea, and the part that wishes I never had to have meetings like this was all "WHYYYYYYY?!? [super whiny voice] CAN'T YOU GUYS JUST FIGURE IT OUT? AW, COME ONNNNNNN !"
Well, it turns out that Jack has not been paying attention in class very well lately. He's been losing his focus, mentally drifting. He's also been struggling to understand the concept of TIME, as they are learning how to tell time on the clock, and he also has a hard time inferencing information from a passage he might have just read.
Okay, fair enough. He has always struggled with the concept of time. It's always been an extremely abstract, unmeasurable concept to him. That's fine, I'll help him out more at home. Luckily, thanks to some excellent extra math help he's been getting (whether he likes it or not), he can now count by 5's! He can also count by 2's, 10's and 25's and believe me--that's freaking amazing. So, I'll work on that.
If he's anything like I
Okay, I'm going off on a tangent that I should not be on. Not everybody in the world has such as terrible attitude as I do, and I try, OH LORD HOW I TRY, not to transfer my bad attitude about school off onto my kids.
And, in all fairness, I don't remember being completely, utterly, brutally bored to death until I got to highschool.
BUT, let's go back to Jack's lack of focus lately. And, let's add to this little story a small anecdote from LAST MONTH:
Jack's teacher: "Jack's just not been himself lately. Usually he's so happy, but he's just not his usual happy little self this week."
He was moody and out of sorts and a little bit of a mild smart-mouth.
Something was starting to occur to me. If I had one on me, I'd have whipped out a calendar of the past month and said;
"Yeah. Were THESE the days that Jack has been lacking in focus?"
I'm willing to PUT MONEY ON IT that those were the dates Jack was lacking in focus. I would also circle approximately two weeks from the month before when he wasn't his "usual happy self."
IT'S MY PMS DAYS, MY FRIENDS! HOORAY!
Oh but wait a minute, karen, you say. Every freaking pissing month you talk about your PMS, and you have said approximately 1 billion times how thanks to that herbal supplement you take every day, your PMS is WAY better, so, frankly, WHAT'S THE DEAL?
Okay, so I don't get TWO SOLID WEEKS of pure emotional retardation. It used to be TWO FULL WEEKS--FOURTEEN FREAKING DAYS of this:
|ATTENTION EVERYONE: I AM GOING TO NEED|
YOU ALL TO SHUT THE F*CK UP. YES, THAT'S RIGHT
ALL OF YOU. IN FACT, CAN THE ENTIRE WORLD
PLEASE SHUT THE F*CK UP?!?
Now add in a nice dash of pure rage/all encompassing hate, a whisper of super sore hoots, a side helping of monstrous anxiety and a fresh squeeze of irrational weeping and you had yourself one fine karen.
So, things have gotten better. But, it sure as hell isn't all butterscotch ripple here.
|Sigh....it's so beautiful here. Everything is so|
beautiful. Everyone? Beautiful. Even the word
BEAUTIFUL is so beautiful.
No, it's more like 4 days, spread throughout of debilitating anxiety, 2 solid weeks of resigned apathy, one super sore right ba-bongo, and a pandora's box of SCREAMING IDIOT SO DON'T MAKE ME OPEN THAT BOX. DON'T MAKE ME OPEN IT!!!!!
And the sad thing is, is that in order for little Jack to be the happy, secure, carefree, sweet little guy that he is, I need to have my shit firmly held together at all times.
Did ya get that, people? AT. ALL. TIMES.
And I just can't seem to accomplish that, because during those two weeks? Suddenly I'm aware that people TALK SO MUCH. THEY JUST TALK AND TALK AND TALK AND I'M SURPRISED THEIR HEADS DON'T FLOP RIGHT OFF.
And phantom traces of poop on things like, dresser drawers, the side of the bathtub, the edge of the sink? Well, instead of delighting me like they usually do, they fill me with a pyromaniacal rage. And when one of the kids says; "I CAN'T FIND MY PEN/HAT/MITTENS/UNDERWEAR/SOCKS/DRACULAURA HEAD/ETC, instead of chuckling gently to myself and heading off for the billionth time to help find that LOST THING, I tend to lose it a bit, like a total ass.
And yesterday? When I asked if Jack had been acting out, and not being himself during the past two weeks, I got wide eyes of revelation--like a great mystery had been solved.
Yeah. That's right. I am Jack's WEIGHTED BLANKET. And when I'm emotionally unavailable, it all goes down the toilet.
Should I give the school my PMS schedule for the rest of the year?
I think I will. Jack's teacher and EA are wonderful and work so hard. They deserve that much.