Drama

At what point does the drama in real life go so completely over the top that it ceases being believable? Am I living in a novel?

I think I'm at that point. If I were reading the blog, I'd no longer believe it. Do I attract this crap? (unlikely, but possible in a "woo-woo" psychological sense) Do I focus on it to the exclusion of all else? (Perhaps)

The gooiest topping on the sundae of my so-called-life is that I'm sorta involved with a phone threat which was made against the District. A teacher lost her mind the Friday before school started, called the District, and threatened violence. She wasn't in the classroom, it was after school hours, etc. She was acting as an "upset parent." (Note here: I have been really upset in the past, but I have NEVER threatened anyone. Ever.)

The police were called, the police filed a report, the report was sent to the papers, and now it's all over the local news. Excellent. And the Board has to decide how to reprimand this person.

Back story is that we, our family, have made the request repeatedly that the aide who assaulted Saul not be in any contact with him at any time. That woman works as an aide for the son of a teacher, or at least she worked with him last year. Aides get their assignments on the Friday before school starts. These two boys are in the same classroom (idiotic decision there, folks), so the District reassigned the aide. Teacher/mother lost her mind, et cetera, et cetera. Resolution was that her son was to be moved out of that class and keep his aide.

First day of school, nothing's changed, and I get asked to allow them to place the aide with the other boy. They tell me they never hired a replacement. Certainly no one told me about the threat, the conflict on Friday, nor the proposed resolution.

By the end of the week, my son's no longer in class because of anxiety and this is hitting the papers. And the internet (the anonymous slam site loves this one).

Sigh. Could I have predicted this? Why, yes I could. In fact I did predict that he couldn't tolerate her LAST YEAR IN THE IEP! Ugh!

At least I do know that a lot of teachers are royally ticked off at her for behaving so poorly.

So that's the gooey part, which will eventually drip right off the top of the sundae and be mopped up. Here's the perfect cherry topping. Ready?

My mother needs me to come visit her in Boston for a week in October because she needs me to put her shoes on for her.

Uh huh. Let that sink in a sec.

I need more children to pick up after, I do. And I LOVE putting on shoes. It makes my day.

She had knee replacement surgery a few weeks ago (which she also wanted me to fly in for. Uhh. Start of School?), and her recovery has been not so great. She's on so many different medications as it is (something like 12?) that the pain meds weren't really hitting. Finally they put her on a round of broad spectrum antibiotics and sent her home with all sorts of new and wonderful pain meds.

So she's feeling fine, but can't bend over to put on shoes. So I should go visit while my Dad's in Australia for a week. To put on her shoes. Uh, no. Sorry. Why not call upon your excellent son who lives only a few minutes from you? Hmmm?

I quite seriously am not a happy camper these days. If it's not one thing, it's another. Perhaps the worst part is I keep getting suggestions from friends who say, "You need to do something for yourself" and then are completely unable to watch my kids when I point out that I'd like to, but I have this other responsibility. I've given up on this particular conversation. Now when someone starts it with me, I break in with, "On what day would you be able to watch the kids for me? Because that sounds like a great idea." If I were in a better mood, it would be humorous to watch them scurry away as fast as they do. My favorite excuse I got this week was this one:

"What are you doing this weekend?"

"Watching the kids. Maybe fighting traffic to go into San Francisco to the Asian Art Museum, even though the bridge is shut down."

"Where's your husband going to be?"

"Selling meat."

"Well, you shouldn't be alone on a holiday weekend."

"Alone? I've got the kids. Unless you want to come over or watch them for a while."

"Oh no. I'm going to Tahoe."

"Uh huh."

"But we should talk."

"OK."

"I can't call you this weekend because the cell phone reception's bad up there. But you need some friends around you right now. People you can talk to."

Oh, the love and support is just flowing off of you in waves, my dear. Really.

So, I guess I just vent here instead. Aren't you pleased?

Recent good things:

Dear Butcher laughed his high pitched squeaky out-of-control laugh when I told him about the shoe-trip to Boston. That's always fun.

We had another grass fire, but we didn't have to evacuate.

I fixed some *really* important details on District paperwork to allow us to (GASP!) follow the law when it comes to enrollment. So maybe future families won't get the nasty third degree from uninformed District secretaries. Humph.

I toured some schools and made their principals happy. Principals are so cute-- they love showing off the schools. ("And here's the hallway! And here's the playground! Did you want to seem some classes? OK, Boys and Girls, This is a Very Important Person in our district! Say Hi, Boys and Girls.") So cute, and it makes the principals so happy, but it's truly a dog and pony show. Does make you smile and feel loved though, that's for sure.