Originally posted on Live Journal: Suburban Eschatology Part Two (April 15, 2011 - 10:27 AM)
Note: November 20, 2011, 6:55 PM
Been working on tweaking and changing some of the tools I use to post, and the new method makes it very easy to migrate posts from one blog to another. Eventually, I would like to move everything over here from the old LJ blog, but that is not a huge priority right now.
However, working on the system for doing that, I did want to move a few over tonight. I posted a couple on their original publication date and posted a few for tonight.
In the future, I will probably just sneak most of them in behind the current posts on their original date.
I will also be working on a couple years worth of posts that were pulled down off of Rubble when it was repurposed and never put up anywhere else, the new SE2 or the old.
It is early but it is not too early. I was up a little too late last night, though, sucked into a book, so I am not feeling bouncy and ready for the day quite yet. That is fine. I have a little time. I've already got my Picture of the Day ready to go, and the new logo I designed yesterday, pushing the limits of the lousy drawing tools I have available, is ready to go, but there is no internet this morning. So instead of working on those tasks, I have a few minutes to kill with some writing.
I strongly suspect that my lack of enthusiasm for the day comes not from the sleep I did or didn't get last night. Surely it has to do with the tasks ahead of me today.
The little one trashed his class room on Monday. Later that evening, he didn't get a toy he wanted, threw a big fit, and hit his mom. It wasn't that his mom and grandmother wasn't going to buy the toy he wanted, they were, even after his behavior at school, but they just couldn't find it. Then he threw another big fit at school on Wednesday and trashed his classroom even worse. I got a call from Jenna after he was picked up from school telling me that he was, essentially, expelled.
Tuesday we had an appointment with the boys' psychiatrist, though he is no longer the little one's. When he heard about Jason's fits on Monday, he told Jenna that she needed to start calling the crisis line when this happens, and that she needed to call the little one's new mental health provider to get his psych appointment moved up. He even called them to tell them that it was critical that they do this.
Jenna was surprised. She is so used to this behavior… Her only real comment was, "That fit wasn't even that bad."
After the events on Wednesday, the new provider moved the appointment up from mid-May to today. This is probably good, but I still do not expect much. The boy's problems do not include a lack of qualified mental health care providers. But they do include some very troubling issues at his mom's house, issues that seem far from being resolved at this point. When he is staying with me, his behavior is very different.
Today, we have this appointment. I am sure new drugs will be discussed, new scapegoats will be identified, more excuses will be made for why change is impossible and why everything is due to a misdiagnosis or two and other people's problems… I will sit and listen. I will try to clarify and correct where I can. I will try to be a part of the solution and not a part of the problem. I will pray.
Then I am taking the big one out for lunch as a reward for doing under an hour of home schooling on the computer most weekdays over the last two weeks. Then I'll be bringing the boys out here for the weekend. I won't be working on my portfolio. I won't be looking for work. I will be worrying and I will be up through most of the dark hours for the next two nights… I will pray.
It is a struggle, but I've come to accept that all I can do is provide a healthy environment for the boys on the weekends and I can pray. I can try not to add to the problem the time or two a week I am in Beaverton, but those trips are becoming rarer. I cannot afford the gas to get out there any more than the twice a week required to bring the boys out here on Fridays and to return them on Sundays. When I get back to work, it will be the same, though. I will only be available, most likely, on the weekends, so I suppose we all need to start getting used to that pattern now.
My instinct is to get the boys out of there, especially since they are not in school now. But I cannot afford to feed them full time. And I need to get back to work, so I have the resources to be doing a bit more. When I get back to work, though, if the boys are not in school they shouldn't be with me unless I can afford to put them in some private school or day care all day. Running feral at their mom's for too much of their lives has led them to this place. Letting them run feral here wouldn't help anything at all.
So my options are limited. Weekends and prayer. Working on repairing my own life so I am in a better place to receive the boys if things get even worse in Beaverton. Making sure that, even in such a limited way, that I am part of the solution and not a part of the problem.
And I can pray. I can hang onto my faith that, somehow, all of this fits into God's plan for us. I can use that faith to conquer the fear. I can redouble my efforts towards repairing my life. I can find succor in the thought that I am responsible for the effort while God is responsible for the result. And I can pray.