To Hell with Heelys

I'm an old woman now. I tried very hard for a long time to not get old as I inched farther and farther into adulthood. I don't want to give up my boy clothes and my video games and start clutching a purse close to my chest and wagging my finger at youngsters. I still ride my bike on the hilly, ditchy path at D's school with him. I really try not to freak out about laundry stains. When the street has dirt in it, I do not feel compelled to sweep it.
Today, during D's Special Time (which still seems pretty pointless), he wanted to go out and roll around in our Heelys. It's never been a problem for me before. They are fun, and as long as you are aware of how you put your foot down when walking, they aren't that hard to fool around in. Today, right after we got outside, WHAM! I fell backwards. My elbow is scraped up a little, but some good ol' H2O2 should take care of that. The real problem is I landed on my hip. Now I feel like I have some idea of why people often just keel over and die after breaking their hips. It is excruciating! And it is torture to move, sit, stand, bend, or lay. Lucky for me, I have a spry son who is willing to help his old lady out with some things around the house. HAHAHAHAHAHa yeah right!

The Therapy Angel

I think we've finally made it through the upheaval and disruption of the (not so) new school year. Things have calmed down a bit. I have been trying to set aside "D's special time" every day for 15-30 minutes of whatever he wants to do together. Many times it has been watching tv while we eat dinner, but we also play with cars, tiny wrestling guys, his Tech Decks, or I watch him put on a show of singing and skateboard tricks. The idea is that giving a clingy, needy kid his own "very special time" together will put into his head that he is not being ignored and that he does get enough attention from mom. In practice, I'm not that convinced. He is still pretty much underfoot unless he is playing with his friends.
Since we were having so many problems for a while there, I began a real search for a new therapist. One that specialized in attachment and working with adopted kids. The one that I contacted first, of course, didn't have any room for new clients in the evening. Same with the woman that she recommended. But the third one ended up being able to see us in the evening. And hallelujah!
I went to the first session alone with her, and she sat and talked with me for an hour and a half. She did not rush me or look pointedly at the clock. She has adopted "older" children from foster care and KNOWS. She knew what I was going to say before I said it, but not in a way like I am so simple and she's so above all this. She just understood. She let me blab on and on about D, and seemed genuinely excited to help us. We completely agree that her job is not to 'fix' D, but to broach subjects and make suggestions that I can then follow up on. It is a lot different for a nice lady to tell you about how or when you should do things than to have that ogre mom tell you. I can't wait. She's already inspired me to make some changes. We started a new schedule today with 50 minutes of study time. Homework, reading, writing, it doesn't matter what he has brought home or forgotten. He will just have to fill that time, so it does no good to "forget" a book at school or to hurry through something all quick and sloppy and wrong. He seems absolutely fine with the idea. We even played Baseball Multiplication after the time was up.

The election at his school today ended up being a landslide for Obama with something like 162 - 37! So take that whoever stole my Obama/Biden bumper sticker!