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9:59 a.m. - 2010-09-08
Wolf and Mom have a chat.

Better. Not wonderful, but better.

Slowly things are falling into the school year groove. The guys aren't best pleased, after all they're the ones going to school, but I like it. Not just for the alone time I get while they're gone either. I find comfort in routine. Not a rigid fretful schedule, that's just voluntary stress and I don't sign up for that anymore. But routine? Oh yes. This I like. When things are ticking along as they should I can handle the inevitable curveballs so much better. I guess most people are like this, I know a few folks who thrive on chaos, but most of us prefer to chug along in a known and comfortable groove.

Comfort. That's the word of the week here.

Now that he's found out who his classmates are (for a wonder they're the GOOD kids in his grade!) and he's got his class schedule and met most of his teachers Wolf is settling down. Even more than his mama, the boy fears the unknown, and not knowing who he was going to be stuck with for the next 10 months was a HUGE weight on him. Last year the powers that be thought spreading the worst stinkers around through the six core class groupings would be a good thing. What they found out was all it did was cause undue stress. The stinkers were not influenced by their better behaved classmates, the teachers lost important class time dealing with the cruddy kids' antics, and the kids who were honestly trying to do well got frazzled and cranky over the constant disruptions, fights, and filth from the thugs.

This year they put all the worst bad apples in a couple of baskets and tried to sort the rest of the kids into groups based on both academic skill and classroom style. I mean it is a school for kids with social/behavioral issues so we're not talking about fast-tracking the Ivy Leaguers or anything, but there's a few like Wolf who've learned how to adapt to their peculiar wiring and are as close to being 'regular' as a bunch of autistics, Aspies and other assorted 'off' kids can be. And they, the adaptable ones, are Wolf's assigned 'gang' this year.

Though my boy and I had a little doe-see-doe yesterday after he got home. He came in to tell me about the rest of his day (I’d seen him that morning for the first monthly meeting and med review) and after the usual catch-up Wolf sidles into what he really wanted to discuss. That's another thing with him, when he wants something he comes at it sideways. So he heaved a big sigh and told me how he can't really get along with the other kids because he has nothing in common with them. Oh? Well, you know, they're into all those games like 'Call of Duty' and 'Grand Theft Auto' and 'Halo' and they all watch 'Family Guy' and 'South Park' and he, you know, isn't allowed near that stuff.

I snorted. "Listen, kiddo, I'm sure some of your friends' parents do their best, but mostly those kids get ZERO supervision at home. That's a big part of the reason they're at that school in the first place. Nobody teaches them right from wrong, they live like wild things and are allowed to stuff their brains and their bellies with crap. All you talk about is how much you want to get out of that school for thugs. And so you will. You've worked very hard and I'm proud of you. But I'd be a horrible mother if I let you gorge on garbage. I don't let you live on junk food and I won't let you feed your mind with junk either."

Another big sigh. "I know. But…but…it's just hard sometimes."

"I hear ya, kid. Everyone wants to be part of the gang, especially at your age. But be honest, do you really want to be part of a group that's heading for jail instead of college?" (Head shake and reluctant smile from son.) "C'mon, you really want to need a nice shirt for court instead of for a dance?" (Bigger smile now.) "You're getting ready to have a great life, and most of those guys are getting ready to meet their probation officers." (Laughing and nodding.) "So, chin up, handsome. Eyes on the prize and nevermind what those doffuses brag about now. Someday you'll be driving down the street with your nice wife and kids and you'll see the cops with some guy on the ground tasing the hell out of him and you'll go, 'Holy crap! I know that guy! That's Joe Blow from 8th grade! Hey, Joe, didn't you learn anything from Grand Theft Auto?' and you will have the last laugh, I promise."

Giggling, "Thanks, Mom. Soooo… can I stay up tonight to watch 'South Park'?"

"Oy, you booger! Out! Out! Out before I make you watch 'The Care Bears' movie and write a 500 word essay on it."

"I'm going! I'm going! Love you, Mom."

"Love you too, my dear one."


Yup, he'll be a comfort to me in my old age. If I live that long. ~LA

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