It's a girl...hey where did everybody go? -My Messy Beautiful

Swaddled in a pastel blanket, there she is on the balcony of my apartment, three stories up from the parking lot.  The railing is there but she is so small that she rolls and slips right under the base, falling quick towards the pavement below.

 I snap back to reality, my heart racing, my breath rapid and frantic, my mind full of fear and horror, why does this scene keep playing in my head.  I look over at my sweet 6 week old daughter laying safely in her bouncy seat and start to calm down as I return to reality.   
A year before this I had longed to be a mother.  I was recently married and filled with excitement at the idea of starting a family.  So why was this happening to me now that the moment had arrived?  Why was I seeing horrible visions of my sweet baby?  Why was I so sad all the time?  Why did I panic anytime I needed to go anywhere or make a decision?  This was supposed to be a happy wonderful time and I was a complete wreck.   

I didn't dare tell anyone, actually writing that first paragraph was extremely hard.  I haven't even told my husband about that horrible vision.  I feared they might think I was a terrible mother, or take my daughter away from me.   I loved her, woke at all hours of the night to nurse her, sang songs to her, and  would do anything for her.  I thought that maybe it was just exhaustion and if I could catch up on my sleep it would go away, then one day I went to buy some chicken.   I went to the drive-thru of a fried chicken place and when my turn came to order I panicked.   I was buying dinner for myself and my husband, I had decided that this would be easier than cooking a meal with a newborn, it wasn't.  I could not make a decision on how many pieces of chicken I needed.   My heart began racing, my chest got tight, I felt dizzy and like I couldn't breath as all the options of combo meals ran through my mind.  I sat parked in front of the speaker frozen and feeling like I was about to die.  This, was my wake-up call that I was not doing OK and this certainly couldn't be normal.   I was suffering from a case of postpartum depression and I needed help.  

Fast forward to today and I am now a mother of two children, ages 8 and 11. (this picture is old, I can't seem to find a recent one.)  I am also a birth doula and now I get to support women as they go through the journey of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum.   This work often makes me think back to those first few months of motherhood and the struggle and pain that came with the joy and elation.   I question how it happened to me, and how I can help it from happening to others.  I am not sure that I can single-handedly stop it from happening but I can certainly start a conversation about it.  Sometimes raising awareness of something helps the people going through it not feel alone when they come to face it.   I think a big part of postpartum depression is feeling alone.   

Prior to having my daughter my husband and I had a group of friends to go out with, outdoor parties by the pool and music in downtown Austin. After she was born our friends stopped calling because they assumed we would be too tired or busy to go out.  When I was pregnant there was rarely alone time.  Strangers at the grocery store wanted to talk to me about my growing belly. Did I know if it was a girl or boy? What name had we picked? How was I feeling, and could they get me anything?  Pregnancy can be a pretty self indulgent time. The world takes notice and stops to pamper you.   Then, you have the baby, everyone rushes in, makes a big fuss and then in about two weeks they all vanish.  Paternity leave, if there was any, ends all too quickly. Helpful grandmothers go back home.  There you sit in a rocking chair, sleep deprived, baby spit up on your shirt, a pile of dishes and laundry, and an adorable baby. Messy, Beautiful.

Now I know that there are support groups like Postpartum Support International so that no new mother has to feel alone.  For myself, I spoke to my Dr, read an encouraging "new mom" books, took some zoloft, prayed, joined some online social chat rooms, and made myself get out of the house.   I wish I would have known there were local support groups and so many women that had been through it before and that is why I'm telling you my story.

How about as a community we decide that we don't just go away after the first two weeks of our friend having a baby.  Let's keep gushing over her, go clean her house, or ask her if she wants to go out dancing.  She might say no, but being invited feels so good!   It lifts you up out of the foggy valley of parenting to see that the world didn't just forget about you.  It is helpful to know that you are more than a milk machine and diaper changer, you are the cool friend that your girlfriends want to hang out with.  I have a theory that small villages do not experience the levels of postpartum depression that Americans do.  Actually 1 in 10 Americans report depression according to the CDC.   That is ridiculously high but I totally believe it.   We are all on our phones, updating our status to say how awesome our life is, and the real community, the hugs from a friend, the sound of their voice in a conversation, the things that stimulate our souls.... are lacking.

I wish I could tell you that I don't feel alone anymore, but the truth is that I do.  Often.  My guess is that you do too.  I'm not depressed, I find joy in my family and my garden and crafting.  This busy America is set up for folks to feel lonely despite all of that.   I have thought it the past that it was because I am the mother of a child on the autism spectrum, or because my son has SPD and all that meant I had to say "no" to doing some fun things for the balance of my family.   I am sure that is part of it but it's bigger than that.  1 out of 10 Americans, it's so much bigger than my situation.   I think it's because things are too rushed to connect.  We drive around, drop kids off places, check our email while walking, and forget to look up and communicate with the people around us.  Also we are daily seeing stories and pictures of moments that we were never a part of.   I look at everyone's facebook updates and feel like I am missing those moments.  The family that is far away having a birthday party, the  friends I haven't seen in 10 years because of all the miles between us.  Part of seeing that is a gift because we do get to stay updated on family and dear friends, but since when does looking at an old photo album make anyone feel less lonely.

I got off track from the postpartum depression, but my point is that the loneliness and depression can happen regardless of life stage.  I think society expects it less from the new mother because "she should be happy with her new baby."  The new mother needs special care, but really we all do.
 This essay and I are part of the Messy, Beautiful Warrior Project — To learn more and join us, CLICK HERE! And to learn about the New York Times Bestselling Memoir Carry On Warrior: The Power of Embracing Your Messy, Beautiful Life, just released in paperback, CLICK HERE!

 

The Weight Of Mercy - Part 2 (making it lighter and filling your cup)

I've been on a journey of exploring this thing called mercy for many weeks now.  I'm still learning but I wanted to share some things that I have learned along the way.   The first thing that I learned was to not hold on to things that aren't mine to hold.  In order to do that I had to evaluate what really was mine and what wasn't.  I absorb the emotions of those around me, so much sometimes that I'm easily tricked into thinking they are my emotions.  Somewhere I know they aren't but my response is to act as if they are mine.    I'm getting better at this now, each time an emotion rushes through me I assess the situation, I ponder on whether or not  it is coming from me, and then I ponder what I am truly feeling.   If you aren't super empathetic this might seem crazy to you, but if you are then hopefully this is helpful.   I'm also finding that physically separating myself from the person who is radiating emotion can be helpful.  I don't stay away too long, just enough to get grounded and figure out how I feel, and how they feel, and then I can move forward knowing what is true.

My dear friends at church met with my husband and I to tell us that they were moving very far away.  I was sad, but also I was happy for them because it seemed that they were embarking on a divinely inspired adventure and I was excited to see what will happen next.  That next Sunday they announced it at church and immediately the room was flooded with so much emotion, a lot of it felt like extreme sadness, fear, and despair.  Our pastor asked that we gather around them in prayer and I knew that I could not be in the middle of that circle.  I wouldn't have known that a month ago.  I would have rushed right up there and become immensely overwhelmed. Luckily for me I was working on figuring this out and so I stayed on the outside physically, reminding myself of my own true feelings and accepting that I couldn't fix or stop the other people from their sadness.  It was still difficult but I was able to acknowledge what feelings didn't belong with me and then pray for those who were feeling the other emotions.

My next lesson has been that my cup must be full.  Full of rest, joy, love, and health and then from the overflow, that is where I can help others.   I'm working on filling my cup, and not feeling guilty about it because it means that when I go to help others I will be so much more useful and I won't break out in a crazy stress rash at the end of the day.

I must sit, and pray, and wait.  My bible study group has been reading a book that I can't remember the title of, but the lesson this week was that not all good things are great things.  Our world has so many good choices, so many things that we can do to help and serve, so many worthy causes.  Not all of them are for all of us.  We must do what only we can do, and let others do what we cannot.   Saying no to something means I can do something else that I'm totally equipped for and I can totally rock it!  That is much better than doing something halfway good that somebody else would have done entirely better.

  This makes me think of Sunday school class.  I signed up to teach last year because we needed teachers.  I didn't realize that it also meant coming up with our own Story Telling lessons for the verse.  I thought that it would be pre-planned.   I must say that I was pretty terrible at it, I struggled with it weekly, and my lessons were OK but I knew they could have been much better. Most of the time I searched online for a lesson plan that fit the bible verse.   This year I am the assistant, I get to sit with the kiddos and help them not fidget so much, talk with them while they color and basically just be spontaneous sharing the love of Jesus while somebody else teaches the lesson.  My replacement is a great teacher, her lessons are wonderful and she actually has the gift of teaching.  I can hang and talk and I love being around kids, but lesson planning.... so not my skill and that is OK because someone else does have that skill.  

Next Lesson: I like to fix things and I hate conflict.  The moment conflict starts to arise I feel very panicked and fearful and try my best to smooth it over and make in vanish.   The question is, am I trying to fix things that need to be broken?  Things that need to be fixed by someone else so that they can learn and grow?   I'm so quick to jump but a lot of times it's to prevent my own discomfort of sitting and observing a mess.  Who wants to sit and stare at a broken glass on the floor when they are could just quickly  sweep it up.  Except, maybe I don't have the proper equipment to clean up and I end up cutting my finger when if I would have looked behind me there was someone standing with a broom and dustpan ready to do the job properly.
( I literally just watched this happen at my kids school in the hallway.  This woman started frantically grabbing pieces of glass and cut her finger all while someone else was getting the broom and dustpan.  So then she was bleeding everywhere and in need of band-aid, a simple mess made into a bigger mess.)    Patience.

So I'm still learning, but overall I'm getting the message that it's not about me.   People feel things, I can sit with them and share that, we need to know we aren't alone in our troubles  but I am not supposed to fix them.   They were never asking to be fixed, just to be listened to and loved.   I think that maybe mercy is mostly overwhelming when we think we have to hold on to others emotions and trouble until they are fixed.   That is not the job for humans, even therapist only hold your troubles long enough for your session and then it's up to you to the individual to go about the fixing.  Of course my own personal belief is that Jesus does the fixing, but we have to ask Him to and we have to want to be fixed.  

 I have been learning a lot on my journey and seeking His voice this whole time.   It's been amazing what has been revealed to me and I look forward to learning and growing more.

"if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead,[a]do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully." -Romans 12:8
Rember, you cannot do things cheerfully if you haven't first filled yourself full with cheer.

The Weight of Mercy? Part 1

this was written several weeks ago and has been sitting in my draft folder as I explore this deeper.  Part 2 coming soon
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"My Yolk is easy and my burden is light."

If that is true then I am doing it wrong.  I have been born with the gift of mercy and it seems the closer I grow to Jesus the more I'm feeling the weight of it.   I looked for some books or articles on how to deal with this spiritual gift but most of what I found was "mercy is so great! woo hoo!"  That was not what I was looking for.  I found secular views of this gift, they tend to call it empathy and being an empath means you feel the pain and emotion of others.  They suggest shutting people out and not embracing the gift but rather sheltering yourself from it.   This doesn't feel right either.  If you are given a gift it seems a shame not to use it.  Why are we here on this earth if not to love and give?

I've been searching the Word and praying for a way to be helpful but not so affected.  See, when I walk in a room I can feel the emotional energy of everyone, and people are drawn to me like magnets to share their worries and uncertainties.  I am drawn to them too, drawn to sit and to listen, drawn to pray.  What I think I haven't been doing is releasing it after I am done.  If the burden is supposed to be light then perhaps I am holding too much of it on my own.   I also used to think of that verse as "My burden is light (the light of Jesus)" that divine spark can be a burden to those who glow,  but now I'm thinking I had it wrong.

Why isn't anyone one writing and talking about this?  I surely cannot be the only one who feels knots in the stomach, headaches, stress, anxiety, and can sometimes actually take on the symptoms of those I am caring for.
   One  blog I read said if your friend is in a well you shouldn't climb down in the well with them, you should get a ladder and tell them to climb out.  See, something in me is saying to climb down there and just sit with them. To assure them that they are not alone.  Be Jesus for a minute, an hour, and just sit with those who need to be healed.

I had a thought the other day about how Jesus must have felt.  If I feel like a mercy magnet then I can't even imagine what He felt like.  All day people came to him and searched him out, thousands of hurting broken people, and I guarantee he felt every single pain and emotion that they were soaked in.  So, if I can't find a recently published article I will look to Jesus and see how he dealt with it all, and it seems he didn't hold it.  He went in solitude and prayed.  His disciples of course were all like "Jesus, hey Jesus, you gotta bunch of people who are waiting to see you, what are you doing all by yourself, come on dude! They need you!"   (Those disciples wore sandals so I'm sure they said "dude")

Even Jesus knew he couldn't do it on his own, he couldn't take all that pain and brokeness without help from the Father.  I bet he used that time to release it to God and let it go.   

I have been hesitant to write about this or even speak about it for fear that people will read this and want to avoid bothering me.  See, I love this gift, although it can be overwhelming, I wouldn't trade it for another one.   This is a gift that has enabled me to connect to my husband, my children, and many others.  I love connection.

*After writing about this I went to a crisis responder training and heard about compassion fatigue... more on that in a future post.  Seek and you shall find

MacGyver Goes To Support Group

After my discovery of the fact that actually I am stressed and not doing fantastic I have decided to take yet another step toward taking care of myself.  See, I read that parenting a child with ASD can lead to the parent having PTSD.  Like a soldier who went to Iraq, I could develop post traumatic stress disorder?  It was hard to believe, but then again, when you are constantly diffusing "bombs" in your family and on the lookout for the next possible explosion then maybe in some ways it is the same.  It does feel like life and death when you are in the middle of it.  For some parents, it really is life and death.  I feel like I have it pretty easy, but at the same time, it can be so hard.   I love my kids, so so much, but I decided it was time to try out the parent support group for parents with kids on the spectrum.

Last year I went to a parent support group at school a few times when I was feeling particularly frazzled.  It was clear quickly that while the people were lovely and kind, they just had no idea what I was going through.  There problems were real and true, but so different that it just made me feel more alone.   I stopped going and went back to husband,  prayer, and my bible study as my support.  My bible study group is amazing, they are the best listeners and so encouraging.  We laugh together, cry together, and best of all, pray together.   When we go on breaks I miss it, and when it's Thursday morning I put everything aside to be there. I also recognize that I needed more time to talk about parenting things and I really need people with children like mine who had been there, or were there currently, and maybe even some who were just beginning that I could help.  

Last night I went to my first meeting, and of course I can't give details but I will say that it felt so right.  They served me herbal tea and when I said how I felt they nodded along as if I was telling their own story.  When they did tell their stories it was so clear that I wasn't alone, and that there are beautiful amazing things about our children too, and we can celebrate those and laugh about the hard stuff and release it.  

Releasing things is the answer, to be there in the worst moments for my children, and then to release it when it's over.  Breath in the new and enjoy the moment I am in when I am in those good moments.  There are so many good moments that can go unseen if I'm still holding the anxiety of the last explosion.  If the bomb has been diffused then it's time to smile at the sunshine and breath deep.  

Notice MacGyver, he isn't holding on to that stress!

This group is going to do me lots of good.  I never felt I really needed it this much before but it's clear that the toxins were building and it's time to have a place outside my home to help me let them go.    

Put Your Mask On

Earlier this year I attended a workshop in craniosacral therapy and found it to be totally amazing.  If I try to describe it then I sound like a crazy person but long story short, it rocks!  I've been wanting to take my kids in for a session every since.  Last week, after a month long waiting list, we finally got my son in.  See, I had heard it can help with SPD.  I love my boy's energy, his enthusiasm, and his amazing insights on life.  I also see his struggles and frustrations as he tries to control himself and finds that he is lacking in impulse control.  Everyone has struggles, and on this earth we are meant to struggle.  It's just that he struggles so much more than the average kid and so  I made the appointment to see if life could get a little bit easier for him. (I will update on how it worked another time.)

The session went well, I have never seen him so zen calm except when he is sleeping.  He would also have times when he would start stretching and flexing his limbs and give deep sighs, then back to total calm.  It was very interesting for me to watch and at the end of the session the CST told him that things should get a little easier.   Then he said "Mom, I think you need to get up here now."  I wasn't expecting it but I was happy for the offer.

So, pretty much instantly he said  that he needed to work on my adrenals.  Then, he asked me to drop all the things I was holding that were not serving my highest.  I don't know if he meant God, but that is how I heard it and thought, yes, why am I holding all these things?  Worries don't serve my Highest, and I realized that I was holding a lot more than I even knew.  I dropped them one by one with each breath.
I will still need to make sure I don't try to pick them back up again, I'm helpful like that.

My session was wonderful in ways I'm not really sure how to describe so again I will just say that CST rocks!   The most interesting part of my session was that word, adrenals.  When he said that my brain was like "ah ha!"  Other then meaning stress I wasn't sure what they did exactly.  Later that day I did some research.  Turns out they are affecting much more of my life then I knew.

I found an article on adrenal function or rather dysfunction that described my life pretty perfectly.
Get up, drink coffee... coffee...tired so...coffee.  Also, too busy for breakfast, scarf down something at 11 maybe, forget to eat again until I am starving at dinner time.    Most likely the afternoon coffee also has a high sugar item to boost me back out of zombie mode...you get the picture
What I learned was that when you are hungry your body goes into fight or flight mode, so if you already have a busy life and maybe your children spike your adrenalin multiple times a day, it really is best to avoid getting hungry.   Add to that a few cups of joe and you have a recipe for cortisol overload.

This constant state of "fight or flight" leads to a lower immune system, allergies (I've had tons recently for the first time in my life,) memory problems, and many other things.  It seems though that this is the normal and expected state of almost every american parent.

Now, I can't get rid of the stress of a meltdown from one of my children but I think I can remember to eat.  I'm actually programming my phone to remind me for the next week so I get in the habit (memory problem.)
I can  also do a better job  avoiding sugar when I'm feeling hungry or tired. I'm not giving up coffee completely but at least for now I'm going to not drink it after my morning brew.  I'm letting my body be able to feel reality, and if it's telling me go to bed at 8:30 then I probably should.  I will catch up on New Girl some other time.

So far, this not having coffee in the afternoon is leaving me yawning at soccer practice, and realizing I want to go to bed between 8:30-9:30 instead of my usual 11:30-12.  Also, because I didn't pump myself with caffeine, I get to do something about it.  I get to sleep! I don't feel like having a glass of wine to wind down, because I've been winding down since 4 o'clock.
I shared on Facebook that without my afternoon coffee I had uncovered that I was exhausted and needed to go to bed early.  I thought that if I got any reply it would be something to the tune of "way to go!" or "I need to sleep more too."  Nope!  I was met with encouragement to drink more coffee.

Why are we so against slowing down and resting?  I don't understand why we feel we must be busy and peppy to be successful mothers.  While I don't understand it, I do feel it.    There is a mom at the school who if you compared her with other parents,  looks like she is high.  I mean, not really, she doesn't have the glassy red eyes.  But she seems to be in this sleepy sort of state that after I thought about it today, I think is just what the dictionary would call RELAXED and not jacked up on caffeine.  She walks slower, talks slower, and has a presence of calm. Now what if, that mom is going at NORMAL speed and we are all racing on hyper speed.   I fear that is the case.  We need to learn from her!

Wouldn't it be great if we aimed for relaxed, balanced, healthy american, instead of super human, coffee chugging, task juggling, sick american?  What if instead of saying to that other mom how normal it is to be exhausted, what if instead we gave her tips to be less exhausted, or offered to swap childcare so we could both take a nap or get a massage?  Let's get creative and change the expectations.

Lets dare to slow down and take care of ourselves.  As the flight attendant says, "Put your mask on first and then assist your child."  We need to breath, we need to eat, we need to value our needs instead of sweeping them to the side.   If my child wanted to skip breakfast there is no way I would let that happen.  I would lecture them about how the body needs energy, the brain needs food to think, not to mention them feeling grumpy on an empty stomach.   So, why should I let myself off so easily?  Let's put our masks on, and that "oxygen" will make us better parents.

Staring at the sky

Recently I chaperoned my daughters 5th grade overnight field trip.  We hiked into a beautiful ancient forest and stayed off the grid in cabins surrounded by flowing water and 1,000 year old trees.   I had been looking forward to the trip from the moment I got word of it because in the forest is where I feel most at home.  

When we arrived we had to hike in about 3 miles, with backpacks, and 20 some children.  About 10 minutes into the hike reality hit me, this might not be the most refreshing trip for me.  Meltdowns began to happen, specifically with my child.  See, being in a tiny car for two hours, packed in the back seat with two extremely chatty girls, well that got my girl overstimulated. I figured that once she was out of the car she could calm down with the nature setting.  Nothing calms me down more than walking through the forest. However I soon discovered that if you notice every detail of every leaf, moss, mushroom, rock, dirt, and who knows what else... you can't turn it off.  It's exhausting to be walking at a fast pace through this environment.  There is so much more color and things to notice then our typical urban landscape.  She tried strategies like only staring at the backpack of the person in front of us..  They didn't work, it was too much for her.

Now, everyone is carrying their backpack and so I had it in my mind that she MUST carry her backpack too, but about half way through the hike I thought, why?  If this environment is so daunting on her senses, does she really need the physical stimulus of a backpack as well?   I decided no, that I could carry the backpack and maybe we would even enjoy ourselves a little more the rest of the way.  I was right, but one more thing.  Tony Attwood taught me that when somebody is overloaded, and you can't leave the situation the best thing to do is talk to them about their special interest, or rather let them talk to you about it.  So, I may have asked what the most interesting thing she learned from her Harry Potter secrets book was.  Sure enough, distracted  kid hiking at a good pace in record time.   

We finally got to the cabin and it was loud but I as so proud of my girl.  She found herself spaces that were more silent, she excused herself when needed, she took care of herself without my prompting.  It was awesome! I'm glad she finally feels confident enough to advocate for herself and get what she needs.   For so long I have been doing this because she had been to timid or unaware that others weren't also totally overloaded.  

There was one magical moment for us when went on a night hike with the class.  Walking into the forest with our flashlights and curiosity.  After going for awhile our guide said, "now turn off the lights and look up."  There was the amazing sky, it was glittering and full of dreams and beauty.  I felt like I could get lost in it.  My daughter came over and hugged me, and we just hugged and stared at the sky. Being that she is a sensory avoider, I don't get many hugs from her so this was a very special moment for us.    For that moment she was just my daughter, she wasn't someone I needed to look out for.  I wasn't on alert for signs of a meltdown.  I wasn't assessing the situation for triggers.  I was just holding my daughter and staring at the sky.  This both made me extremely happy and also sad.  How often am I in alert mode vs enjoying my daughter mode?   She has proven that she can advocate for herself and I think it was a realization to me that I need to turn off alert mode a lot more and have her be just my 10 year old girl, not my sensitive girl.   Awareness is fine, acceptance is great, but way less alert is a wonderful idea.  

Meet the teacher

Meet the teacher night, I used to always thought it sounded so exciting.  Like meeting Mary Poppins and stepping into a land of  glossy name tags on desks, fresh waxy crayons, the endless possibilities of blank paper.  However this year I was more like a weary burned out vet who had been told to report back to duty.

This week we went to meet the teacher night for my sons class.  I had already decided that I wasn't going to tell her about last years troubles, about the trips to the office, the depression, the complete dread of school.   I knew that my son wouldn't show this side to her right away, he would say hello happily and run off to play with his friends.  I decided that I would let her form her own opinion of what kind of kid he was and that maybe with a little luck she would somehow have whatever magic it takes to make him like school enough and not be bored out of his mind that he wouldn't get labeled a bad kid.  That was my plan, smile, say hello to the other parents, say things like "lovely to meet you," and get the heck out of there.

So, we walked in and my dear boy blasted past the teacher to tackle hug his friend. They went into some sort of puppy pack of happy boy energy and then eventually he came to say hello to the teacher.  He investigated the new charts on the wall, scarfed down some  fruit that was out on the table, and then he was out the door with some classmates tumbling on the hill.   He looked just like a happy kid who was excited for school to start.  It's kinda scary how he can turn it on and fake it so well.  Last year the school counselor couldn't believe he was depressed because he was so cheerful and pleasant when she spoke with him. He doesn't like people to know he needs help.  Just last week he tried to fool the optometrist about his vision.  The conclusion was that he needs glasses, but it took the Dr a long time and lots of tricks and tests before he could be certain.  So, last year when the counselor told me he seemed fine and that whatever I was seeing at home was "just a phase" my intuition knew there was more as I watched my son stop liking every single thing that gave him joy. He would mope and say things like "This life is so hard for someone like me."

  So as the kids were playing outside his new teacher asked me, "So, is he excited about school starting?"  Much to my surprise I heard myself saying, "No, actually he really doesn't like school.  He hated it last year and became very depressed, I know that you might not believe that a seven year old can get depressed, but they can and he did."  I went on to tell her how we looked into a Sudbury school but couldn't afford it, how we did a week trial of homeschool and that was my backup plan. I went on and on telling her exactly the opposite of everything I had planned.  Also I was spilling all of this in front of other parents who slowly backed away from the crazy woman.  It was like I could hear myself blurting out all the grimy details of last years war stories but I just couldn't stop myself, and part of me was thinking "shut up already."  However, something good did happen, she asked me questions like "what did the previous teacher do to fill his needs for movement in the classroom?" She seemed not terrified of my stories and seemed to be absorbing them with occasional questions to better understand.   I also found out she took a class on teaching boys and that she knows that school is not set up for them.  She gave me a glimmer of hope that this year could work and my stories didn't seem to shake her one bit.  She looked like somebody trying to figure out a puzzle as she listened to me and I think that is exactly what we will need to do.  Figure out my sons bag of tricks and help him to make sense of them all.

We drove home and I tried to talk up the teacher to my boy. I said things to my son about how fun it must have been to see all his buddies.  He didn't care, he still hates it, still doesn't want to go.  He is very much the apathetic teenager stuck in a 7 year old body.  He will go anyway, starting on Monday.  Maybe if he goes a week without being sent to the office he will start to trust it again to be a good place.  Perhaps if he can be given some heavy work for his busy body and some challenging quests for his buzzing brain he may even look forward to going to school.  Maybe... I can dream right?