The kids lost my charger plug for my iPod and it’s on the fritz. It’s hard enough to get myself to the gym with school- I think I’ve made it all of three times in the last week and a half- and to do so without music makes it drudgery. When I went downstairs to look for it, I found a playroom and tv room that were trashed. Someone had been in my desk and papers were all over the floor. The couch was torn apart (serious pet peeve of mine) and it was just a general wreck.
Determined to get a workout in early before I have to knuckle down and write a philosophy paper on Kant (due at midnight tonight) I threw everyone in the car anyway and headed to the gym, while giving a lecture on responsibility, respecting boundaries and taking care of our home. I may have raised my voice. I was not happy.
At the Y, the commercial they made of us (remember that?) was sent out to everyone, and suddenly I moved from anonymous chubby chick with three kids to a celebrity. I am, emphatically, NOT comfortable with being recognized, and now I wish I had said No. It’s hard enough to get there, but to have everyone and their brother coming up to me was disconcerting and deflated me like a limp balloon.
I got the kids checked in, threw my stuff in a locker, and went up to find an eliptical. 30 minutes is a long time with no music- but I shouldn’t have worried, because 11 minutes in, the daycare lady came to tell me I had to go get Bean, because he was running away and hiding from the teacher. Eleven minutes. That was my workout.
Down in the gym, Bean was calm again, and involved in a game of Duck Duck Goose, but the teacher-girl said he needed to leave anyway because he had not listened to her. I asked if she knew he has autism- she said yes- but I know she is in no way aware (nor should she be, I suppose) of how to deal with a SPD kid. I had to pull Bean from a game he was playing with joy and politeness, and remove him because of something he did five minutes earlier. He had NO IDEA why he had to leave, and proceeded to melt down, biting and kicking me. Famous Me, who now everyone knows, dragging her completely unglued kid out of the Y.
None of it had to happen.
When we got home, Bean stayed in the car for about 20 minutes, refusing to come inside. I let it ride.
As I got everyone else settled, a friend called and asked if I could watch her four kids this afternoon. It’s no reflection on my friend, nor on her children, but I felt like I was going to puke. I cannot watch anyone’s kids right now- I can barely keep mine occupied while I write one paper after another and try to keep my nose above the rolling, liquid edge of the deep blue water.