Yesterday was a pretty rough day...start to finish. I awoke in an absolutely horrible mood. While I think that was in some part due to being exhausted (Reds went into extra innings the night before), I think it also had something to do with the really bad dreams I had during the night. I can still vividly see those dreams right now. This is not terribly uncommon for me, but these dreams involved my children, and that feeling just stuck with me.
We had a pretty wretched morning of getting ready. I refuse to allow the kids to wait for the bus in the dark without me keeping an eye out, and Andrew thinks I'm completely over reacting. I've asked if he could take the kids to school with him and have them catch a bus there so I could sleep a little longer. Since he feels I'm over reacting, he refuses to do this, and points out that if he takes them, they'll be "in his way." I certainly understand that feeling, because I HAD to take them with me, pretty much EVERY DAY I'VE WORKED in the last three years. You can see where that little point might set me off a bit.
Anyway, I'm still working on painting our old house, so I get ready to head out right after Thomas gets on the bus. My tire pressure light comes on. I go to dig out the air compressor, and realize the VERY HEAVY equipment is above my head where I can't reach it. AGH! I find something to stand on, and also found it very ironic that a box I asked Andrew to put somewhere (anywhere!) three times over the course of the previous week that he had finally gotten to the evening before, was stacked right on top of it. I finally get the thing set up and realize I have no pressure gage so I'm going to have to guess which tire it is. They all looked fine, so I try one tire. Light still comes on. Second tire...light still comes on. Third tire...still there. So of course it is the fourth (and final!) tire that does the trick.
There is tons of "tree work" happening on the back roads between here and our old town. It takes a ridiculously long time to get there. As I'm getting ready to wash my hands for lunch (I pack it each day) I realize that our water has been turned off by the guy who had come to fix a valve. Not a problem, I know where the main valve is, except that does absolutely nothing. It quickly becomes clear that he has turned the water off somewhere else, but I don't know where, and I can't reach the guy. Honestly, the fact that I couldn't wash my hands to eat lunch was more than I could handle and I just began to cry.
About this time, the sciatic nerve that has been screaming at me for days begins to scream even louder, and a migraine begins to come on. Since I can't wash out the paint brushes, I find a Ziploc bag and bring them home. I really wanted to take a quick nap, but realize that Thomas has to get off the bus before Andrew arrives home with the other two, and the driver must see an adult for Thomas to be allowed off the bus. I understand this and I'm not complaining, but it stunk at that point.
When Andrew arrives home he informs me that he has received a call from the person at Catherine's school who is now responsible for her IEP. That person had informed Andrew that they would like to dismiss her from services. I was not surprised by this, as when we handed them the IEP at registration we were told they don't offer those services. This person tells Andrew that she has spoken to Catherine's teachers and they don't see a need for her to receive services. Excuse me? She is speaking to people who have known my daughter for exactly five weeks. And it's the beginning of the year...the first week doesn't even count! Add on how much more that is just review, and I'm supposed to be okay with just letting it go? At her old school, her three year re-eval was just completed in May. Everyone there agreed that Catherine would benefit from continued services...people who had worked with Catherine ALL YEAR and in the case of the speech pathologist, FIVE YEARS! Their opinions hold a whole lot more credence with me than people who have known her a month.
While discussing this with Andrew, my mother calls. When I call her back, she informs me that a very good friend of my dad, whom I've known since the third grade, has been diagnosed with a very aggressive form of lung cancer. He is 71, and they say that it is so advanced there is no point in surgery at this point. That was it. That was the last straw for me, and I began to weep. I just needed to be by myself for awhile and allow myself to cry it out (although I'd been pretty teary for most of the day).
Strange/frustrating things continued into the evening. After doing laundry, I noticed a puddle of water on the laundry room floor. We aren't exactly certain where it came from, although there does seem to be a small leak at one of the hoses. Then shortly after the kids went to bed, we heard a crashing sound from Catherine's room. No one can explain why, but her floor lamp suddenly fell over and broke. She was in bed, although I suppose a cat could've been involved.
I went to bed very early last night. We also made some changes to our morning routine so that I can get a little bit of extra sleep each morning. And extra innings or not, I've got to be in bed no later than 10...it's just the way my body functions (or doesn't, if I don't get enough sleep). I'm happy to report that today I woke up feeling so much better and in a much better mood. I only got teary-eyed once, and that was when I stopped at the old school to drop something off. All-in-all, it's a much better day!
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