Rough time

I finished the first week of class--back in my old position. Not a good feeling. Teaching is great--I really love it--but it isn't a challenge. I greatly enjoyed that year of constant challenge.

I'm trying not to be down about it, but I am. Constantly second guessing my decision to resign.

So, to top off a stressful week we let Alex go to "open gym" last night. The place he takes gymnastics is open on Friday night for $5 for kids to come play and practice. I went to pick him up and found $5-10 worth of stuff from the snack bar that he had stolen. We took it all back, paid the $5 they wanted for the stuff that he had opened before we threw it away. When will Dave and I learn that Alex can't be left alone in situations like this. He will not make good choices. He must be supervised even though he is ten years old. Yes, Alex was very naughty, but Dave and I are the grown ups, and we are the ones that should know better than to put him in situations he can't handle. We want so desperately for Alex to be okay--and he isn't. As I have said before, Joseph may have the obvious disability, but Alex's is much harder. He seems typical, but he isn't.

So--Dave pushed my buttons this morning--told me I had "complained all morning." Poor man. He innocently made a very true statement; I reacted like a depressed woman with too much on her plate. (Granted, at this point, laundry is "too much" on my plate.)  We were heading out the door to the Minnesota football game. The boys were signed up to attend a day camp on campus where they attend day camp during the summer. By the time we finished the 20 minute drive to campus we had agreed that Dave would take the boys to day camp, try to sell my ticket, go to the game with a stranger, and I'd pick them all up 45 minutes after the game where I had dropped them off. So I've bought myself a quiet afternoon, home alone. Probably not doing anything to improve my marriage, but hopefully finding a way to pull out of the depressed funk I've been in because of my job...

Why do I share this? I think it is part of what raising disabled children is all about. Especially when you are a depressed parent. Maybe it is more about being a depressed parent than being a "Miracle League Mom." And I'm not the only depressed Mom or the only depressed Miracle League Mom out there.