What do you wear to a meeting in which you will find out which learning disability your son has?
I decided to wear my comfortable grey button up shirt, mom jeans that are awkwardly too long and respectable granny panties. Messy bun? Too casual! I decided to go for a sophisticated sleek instead. I add a necklace with an airplane pendant (with working propeller of course) because there should always be a little fun in sophisticated attire.
I almost forgot to brush my teeth. How distracting that would have been to have to speak to the evaluator with morning breath. My home-cut bangs are starting to look more unprofessional than I had hoped.
Not that any of this would have changed the outcome. This is just compulsive me rearing it's fascinating head.
My anxiety was on high alert. Many thoughts ran though my head, in which neither outcome of this test would be good. If he is average than I am just a really shitty parent and if he has a learning disability he is in for a world of struggle. As if growing up without a father isn't shitty enough. It would be cruel to give him a disability on top of that.
When I walked into the room, suddenly my attire or hair style didn't matter. This was about my son. The main focus of my life and why all of a sudden he can not keep up with his peers. I didn't need to hear test results to feel like the shittiest parent in the world. The stressed out mom who has been focusing her time on finding us a new place to live, working long hours to make up for the time missed from work over winter sicknesses and all the while making sure there is a meal on the table each night. It didn't matter, disabled or not, my son is at a disadvantage simply because his mother is too busy to go over school texts with him.
My eyes started to water, and I wanted to climb into that little airplane pendant around my neck and fly away.
The tests came back average - and I felt like the shittiest parent alive because I haven't been spending our time together in front of workbooks. We don't sit down at our table on a Saturday afternoon and go over reading lessons and we sure as hell don't do math together - ever (because I couldn't times table to save my life).
I feel like I have been shoved into a role of parent/tutor. I suddenly have to spend our free time together going over printing properly and long division on top of teaching him how to have manners, not to be a menace to society and to remind him to wash his hands after using the washroom.
Forgive me for complaining, I am extremely happy that this is not something we can't work together on to fix, but when does the single mother get a break? When do we not worry about sounding out words and catching up to the rest of his class in reading comprehension? When do I get to stop feeling guilty?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hello..this is my blog. I bought this fancy theme and I don't know what to write here just yet. Maybe one day remind me I have to write something inspiring here?