Joys of Single Motherhood

When your kid breaks his leg you know what to expect. I imagine that first you're scared, then worried, then relieved. In the end you might even be annoyed at your kid. Mental illness is different. You just don't know. It's like a black hole. Mysterious, dark and slowing growing. Kid 2 is ill, that much we know. And the stress is affecting my outlook as well. This is when single motherhood is beyond hard. Basically, my adorable, funny, charming 13 year-old can't take the stress of school. He can't do the school work so he crumples each day at around noon time. School is driving him crazy--at least that's my theory. He comes home each day before noon. It's like preschool except that you're not picking up a smiley little person who proudly thrusts the daily drawing at you while you strap him into the child seat. Instead I am picking up a sad, resigned boy who tries to alleviate my worry with a brief smile before he gets into the car. He sees the strain

Kid 1 has started her junior year of high school. It's late September and I just had my first "College Mom" encounter. In the grocery store, I ran into a neighborhood mom who has a passel of girls, the oldest of whom has just left for a pricey Catholic "university" that's probably less than an hour from home. Sacred Someone University or Convent of the Holy Hedgehog.... one of them. "She applied to nine schools and she got into all of them", she told me. I said "Wow, that's great", and I meant it. Her next question of course was "Where is your daughter going to apply?" and I foolishly said "she's planning to go to school in the city for fashion design". " Oh well, she better have a backup plan, " she said knowingly. I shrugged--what a naif I am sometimes--and said" I think she'll be fine. " Then I scurried away. (Did I really expect her to say" wow, that's great, you must be

Maybe it's me but it seems as though mass shootings by crazed gunmen are happening more frequently I have noticed that a script has evolved for these events. First, the death count starts low and increases as the day goes on. "It is believed that there are three dead and at least 25 injured. Reports from inside the building say that there are at least three gunmen and that they are dressed in military garb. Those left inside have been instructed to" shelter in place". Wasn't "sheltering in place" what they once taught Boy Scouts to do in case of an avalanche or a sudden tornado? "Pitch a tent and stay put!" Now it means "Duck, we gotta another nut with a gun!" The talking heads quickly bring up the possibility that these armed gunmen are part of a terrorist plot. (I imagine that the militia nuts in Colorado, Idaho and other Red states start licking their chops as they set about cleaning their weapons and counting bullets. Maybe t

I hate the start of a new school year. I should be relieved but I am too busy filling out a pile of forms. Dopey forms that I filled out last year and the year before. These include the "Internet Acceptable Use Policy" ; the "Would it be okay if we try to convince your daughter to join the Navy Seals" form; the "Google Apps Usage" form (What parent says 'no' to Google Apps? Maybe one who owns millions worth of Microsoft stock?) and the Photography Permission" form. (To this one, I say "knock yourself out trying to get a decent photo of my kids. And call me immediately if you succeed.) My son happened to be around while I was filling out the Internet one. He had to sign it too and he was suspicious about what exactly it was promising."What is this for? What does it mean?"  I told him "it means you won't surf porn or play Solitaire, just like last year." He signed reluctantly. I don't think he knows what Intern

I fought off a Babbler this morning at the shrink's office. A "Babbler" is what I call a non-stop talker who takes advantage of any stationary person--a receptionist, an airplane passenger, anyone in a waiting room---and proceeds to talk non-stop about themselves and often, the state of their health. The listener is the "Victim". The Babbler never, ever picks up on his victim's silent pain. At first, the victim will respond "uh, huh" and nod, but that impulse is quashed after five minutes or so. Beware the Babbler. This particular Babbler was a sixty-ish male whose receptionist victim was a Gen-Xer who happened to be black. This was a stroke of luck for the Babbler because he had decided to lecture her on the history of civil rights in New York City, starting when he was a child. (Sixty can sometimes seem like a long, long time....and no, Mountain Mensch, I am not implying anything here.) The Babbler had quickly gotten on a roll. "I tell yo

I haven't written in a while. I always have a million ideas that evaporate when I sit down to write/tap on my computer or phone. School starts next week. Kid 1 will begin her third year of high school and Kid 2 will serve a one year sentence in 8th grade. She seems eager while he is clearly ignoring the whole subject. Once school gets going, he'll probably ignore all of his subjects individually. Yuk, yuk. We are starting our yearly Special Ed Odyssey and my anxiety level is rising as the first day of school gets closer. I wish I co uld ignore the whole thing but there is a process and it gets a lot more complicated this year. There is the initial meeting to assess what special services and accommodations will be made to help him succeed this year. He was retested in June after he had his brain sprain but he was resistant to some sections. In the end, they seemed to conclude that he's a capable student who dislikes school and doesn't try hard enough. We had a meetin