...you get it from your children. That bumper-sticker wisdom proves true, sort of.

My first post:

Well, I did it.  Four years on the proverbial couch and I'm finally done.  There were several other times (usually fixed on some arbitrary date like the end of the year or my birthday) that I had set up times to terminate, but when it came right down to it, I couldn't.  But after four years, it seemed like it was time to graduate. 

Thursday, August 27, 2009

The crazy returns

It was such a sane summer. I went off the meds in May. I went to see Liz in June to tell her that everything was peachy.

Summer had its bliss (boy away at camp for three weeks, and a child-free trip to Montreal) and its aggravations (the boy was either on a screen or in his room, no social interactions at all) but overall we all had some good hanging out time.

Usually the start of the school year is sweet freedom for me. Not so this year, at least not so far. Perhaps it is the transitional nature of it all (both kids moving up to middle and high school) that is adding to the stress. But things are getting to me again. I burst into sobs two days ago because the girl was refusing to practice her flute. And I've been despondent all morning over the fact that the boy went to his first "real" day of high school (yesterday was orientation) with no gym shoes, schedule, or school supplies. He goofed around on the computer until 10:00 without any thought to getting ready. He didn't even know where his backpack was.

Do I have to do all his think work for him? Is this how it has to be? I can't stand it.

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