Friday was really bad. Just all around. I was having a weird emotional day and then I went to pick Alex up and I thought everything was turning around when he flashed his smile at me. But the way he told me he had a RockStar day let me know nothing was changing and this particular Friday was gonna keep on sucking. He feebly tried to sell his RockStar status, but gave up pretty quickly. I'm sure because he knew he was full of shit and quickly saw that I wasn't buying it. My suspicions were confirmed when I looked up at his teacher and saw her face. If there is an antonym for a RockStar, that's the kind of day he had. He had more of a Clumsy and Angry Glass Maker type of day. Everything smashed down around him, but it was his own damn fault.
This past week had been a slow slide away from RockStar. Monday started out with kind of a rough morning, but a great afternoon. And that pattern continued on, but with a little more roughness and a little less greatness. On Thursday, whilst noticeably robbed of all sanity, his teacher told me that he had a rough day, but he managed to turn it around and "slide home safely." I welcomed her to my daily life. And then I got there on Friday.
After asking him again how his day was and getting an honest answer, I went to talk to his teacher. Once again, my little darling decided it was a really good idea to throw a fit because he didn't want to nap. A fit that again included throwing his blankets and nap mat. But this time, to really drive his point home, he extended the fit another 5 minutes to a nice round 45 minute tantrum. I was already kinda mentally fragile and it was all I could do to not start crying right there next to the snack table and tiny little chairs. His teacher obviously saw this and she apologized for having to give me bad reports. Ummmm...huh? I mean, thank you very much for acknowledging that it completely sucks to stand here and be told my son is a total asshat all day, but I'm pretty sure I'm the one that should be apologizing. Seems my inability to raise a child that is more than two steps away from throwing his own poo might be causing you juuuust a squink of trouble during the day.
In the interest of keep myself together-ish, I interrupted whatever ridiculous plea Alex was working on to stay and play, and I told him to get his stuff. His teacher stopped him on the way out and told him they were going to start over on Monday. Yes, you can start over on Monday...if I decide to ever let him out of the house again.
I silently got him in the car and headed home. He didn't dare speak while we were in the car and I only broke the silence a couple times. I couldn't even stand to have the radio on I was so pissed. I'm quite sure he would have preferred the silence to the things I had to say when I did speak to him. My first blow up was when it hit me again that he straight up lied to me about his behavior and tested the waters to see if he could trick me. And then I retreated to silence. And that is the parenting technique I employed upon arriving home as well. I sent him to his room and just kept coming back in when I thought of something else I was upset about and needed to loudly tell him.
Finally I stopped that and I sat down in his room and told him my solution to this ridiuclousness. If he acts like that ever again, I am going to have his teachers call me and I am going to pull him out of school. (What I will do with him if this ever happens is yet to be determined, but he didn't need to know that.) After I finished, he looked at me with complete shock and pitifully said, "But, I LOVE school!!!" Yes, I know. That's kinda the point.
I thought his teacher was going to fall over from confusion and shock when I told her my plan. She just blankly looked at me for a minute while my proposal sunk in. Once she agreed that she would go along with this, she had a few questions I answered, and we were set. And then she thanked me for backing them up. And I, in turn, thanked her for not putting my kid out on the street corner.
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