The school has reported us to Child Protective Services. Yeah, I know they're a mandated reporter, and yeah, I know that Saul said in the middle of a tantrum at school that he couldn't go home with his dad because dad made him get bloody noses. Yeah, I know that the social worker will realize that this is an exceptionally complex case once she talks to his behaviorist, his family therapist, his psychologist and his psychiatrist, file a report and be done with it. Yeah, I know all that in my head.
But other parts of my body are screaming.
I have an appointment on Monday to drive up to the county seat to be interviewed by the social worker. Fun. Did I happen to mention that my mother is coming to visit tonight? Staying through Tuesday? Yeah. Great.
I'm totally serious here. I've gotten through most of this stuff with my son by just saying that I can hang on one more day. Or that I can go meet with one more person. Or that by next week such-and-such report will be filed and that THAT report will be the one that is helpful. I've had good people come on board and ten leave with no explanation. I've had decent people come on board who got stubborn. I've had t drive away manipulative people who were damaging him. (Including the one person at the school who said, "All that child needs is a good spanking." Hmm. Wonder where she is now? May be SHE can talk to the social worker and explain herself?)
But right now. I've hit the end of all sanity. I'm walking through days now in slow motion.
And my mother is coming to visit tonight. Joy.