Alex spent the day home from school yesterday. He missed his class Halloween party and costume parade. He was not sick--he was suspended for the day. Why? For hitting his teacher.
As anyone who is a parent can likely imagine, this was very upsetting for me to hear. As anyone who is a parent of a child with different needs, it felt like yet another failure, yet another challenge piled onto the heap. On Tuesday driving us back to my office, I cried and felt miserable, alone, angry and powerless. (The alone part was heightened by the fact that I was physically alone in parenting at the time because Joe was on his way back that day from Denver.) But I went back to work, not because I had to or because I didn't want to face the situation. I went back to work because the people I work for and with are a valuable part of my support system. I sat down and had a long talk with my boss, which helped on many, many levels, some practical and some emotional.
Yesterday was not a fun day -- no TV, no computer. The presents Joe got for Alex stayed in his suitcase. Instead of doing what he wanted to do, he did worksheets. He wrote an apology letter to his teacher. At the end of the day, we did let him go trick-or-treating, primarily because it's never been a big deal to him (he's only wanted to go out once before) and because of what I sensed as true understanding of what he'd done wrong and given the severity of the incident (it wasn't a "I'm going to hit you to hurt you" but a "I'm going to play-hit you on the wrist but make contact to see what happens"), I felt like he'd been punished enough.
The biggest issue is Alex's ongoing dread and dislike of going to aftercare. We try to pick him up when school dismisses at 2:05 as much as possible, but that is difficult given that we both have, you know, JOBS. We've seen a pattern develop on days that he has to go to aftercare where he acts out at the end of the day, a clear sign that he's willing to get in trouble if it means one of us picks him up. It's always been a struggle for us, but one that didn't seem avoidable. Until now.
Yesterday also included a meeting at my boss's house (just down the street) with her and my new assistant to go over the job description and qualifications for my new home-life coordinator. This person will work for me part time, picking Alex up at school every day, making him a snack and getting him started on his homework. This person will also do light housework and cooking, run errands (like groceries, post office, dry cleaning) and will occasionally stay overnight with Alex on the rare instances when Joe and I both need to travel at the same time. We're going to start interviewing ASAP. Alex is very excited about the prospect of not going to aftercare anymore, too. He's going to participate in the interview process, as will several people beyond Joe and me -- my boss, who has really set the model for this position we call home-life coordinator (other people would call this person a nanny, but that isn't quite right) and probably one or two other people in the firm. Alex's main question so far has been, "Will she have soft hair?"
We're also going to start taking him to see a therapist. It's something that's been in the back of my mind for a while, but this incident has me ready to pull the trigger. One of our work benefits is that there is a local therapist that we have on a retainer of sorts -- if any of us want to see her, she bills the firm directly so we pay nothing out of pocket. It just so happens that she has experience working with children with autism and other needs, but if she isn't the right person, she'll help us figure out who is.
So...despite how I felt on Tuesday afternoon, this is not the end of the world. It's just one incident that prompted some needed action and unexpected benefits. We can deal with this, one day at a time. We aren't failures as parents. (I'm going to keep repeating that one to myself, cause it's a tough one to really believe.) And most of all, we have an incredible system of family, friends and work colleagues who not only support us, but make us feel like we are all in this together. And that makes all the difference in the world.
