Happy

Can I still do this?  Can I still write my thoughts and ...

I stopped blogging in October because the pain was too great.  Just so painful.  And because when my ex used it as a weapon against me, the one outlet I had to reach out and feel the love and know I wasn't alone, it cut me off at the knees.  It felt like being burned and drowned at the same time.

Oh, there are stories to tell form the last nine months.  Gosh.  I could have birthed a child in that time!  Well, perhaps I've birthed a new me?

I feel better.  I feel like I can breathe again.  I feel like I'm alive.  I'm happy.  Really, truly happy.  Some days I climb back up the monkey tree and screech and wail from the top that I'm going to fall to my death.  But most days my feet are on the ground, I'm standing tall and I'm SMILING.  Me.  Smiling.  I like this.

In a week all four of us go back to school.  WG, who is 9 now, will be back in public school.  She was all aces throughout our homeschool year but she missed the socialization.  She has also overcome her fears and surmounted her own anger.  She gets easily frustrated but recovers quickly. No more shutting down or destroying property.  Mostly, her annoyances include, well... Sissy is her only annoyance. LOL  So off to public school, the school we're zoned for.  No teachers at that building will remember her older siblings.  In fact, Sissy only got to the third grade there.  WG will be in the gifted program.  She'll be riding the bus (she LOVES that!) and it'll be all new friends that never witnessed her tantrums and her selective mutism when pushed to the edge.  Or her intentional urination tricks.  Plus, have I mentioned how smart that girl is?  Dang.  So insanely smart.  She gets it from her momma. *wink wink*

AB has had a rough six months.  Lots of depression and anxiety.  Now we're beginning testing to determine if he's having absence seizures and to see a cardiologist because he has mild tachycardia from his resperidal.  He's such a trooper.  He's talking so much more now.  Which is its own annoyance.  He's hard to understand and he asks such big questions like, "Mom?  When I'm 18, can I go live on Mars?"  To which I reply, "Well... if that's what you really want to do.  But don't count on me coming to visit for Sunday dinners."  He gives me a half smile and a chuckle.  Translated: My mom is so funny.

I like to make AB laugh.  *me and WG in unison* AB has the BEST laugh!!!

I love my son.  Love, love, love my son.  I can't imagine raising a son that was neurotypical.  It would drive me INSANE!  No thank you, I'll take my developmentally delayed and mentally ill son.  NT boys are nuts.  AB is now 12 and entering the 7th grade in a co-teach/inclusion para-professional learning environment.  Hopefully this dynamic will continue to work for him.

Sissy.

Ah well... is she ever going to be anything other than Sissy?  Pbft.  NO.

We wait on pins and needles for the county to call this week and let me know if she will be moved to the Emotional/Behavioral Disability classroom, a learning setting that is independent of the general population and in our county, it's in a school 6 miles from home.  It means she'll ride the "short bus".  It means AB won't have to deal with her all day long.  It means no more OSS and ISS and bus suspensions.  It means when she starts "womanhood" I won't be driving to the school with clothing changes because there will be certified staff taking care of it for me.  It means she won't be stealing and wandering the halls and hiding under desks and having rages in the middle of math class.

Aw hell, she'll still be doing all of that nonsense.  It just means there will be staff that is trained to deal with it.

But for now, it is a waiting game.  School begins the 6th and we still don't know.  If she's back in the building with AB, it's going to be short lived, I can tell you that.  Sissy has plateaued.  What you see is what you're going to get from her, for the rest of her life.  She's functionally 5 years old on a good day, 2 on a bad day and on the hold-your-hats-because-she's-going-apeshit-again days, she's 18 months old.

On the calendar, she's 13.

*sigh*

I'm single and loving it.  The trees are a little greener, the air is a little fresher.  Sissy hasn't needed stabilization or RTC for 19 months and counting!!!!  I'm teaching, studying for the GACE and enrolling in the MAT program in January so I can move to the public school and get benefits for the first time in my life (I'll be 39 in October.)  My yard is well kept because I use yard work as my anger outlet.  In the BeTA fundraiser, my donated quilted items raised $275 to help another mom attend the 2014 BeTA retreat in Orlando.  I'm certified to provide respite for adults with special needs and have two young women I care for on Mondays and Wednesdays when I'm not in the classroom.  I laugh so much more than I cry. I have my last therapy appointment in August.

I'm happy.