Rotten luck all, peeps.

My "back in the day" story - my parents could barely afford to send me to grammar school (age 12-16 state school you passed an exam to get into) because of the uniform and other requirements. I think my hockey boots cost half a week's salary. When you're paid weekly that's a huge deal.

And the school-specific duffle coat that I was forced to wear for three winters because is cost so much and I refused to grow. Let's not even mention the fact that the games sweater (jersey, I think?) had to be HAND-KNITTED in school colours! And I knew a girl who had hers machine-knitted (which was a cool machine in the 80s) and despite using the right wool, hers was a totally different colour and was SO noticeable.

Anyway.
Just saying.
Much as I'm a big follower of rules...
What a bunch of cocks.
How horrible that you have to start from scratch. Monster's plan is a good one, but if this is a school that is aware of your son's particular issues (sorry, I don't always keep up) then a stiff letter is advised.

Here's to you and your chap dealing with this.

My upset tonight is just Mum.
Nope, no criticism. Not even a veiled one.
She's so unhappy.
They're house-sitting, Dad didn't want to do it. Much as I adore him as a father, he can be a shit as a husband. He's drinking heavily (yes, it's a family trait) and not helping Mum at all. He had a bad fall - Mum had to get the gardeners to help him up - and is milking it it for all it's worth.

I mean, that's pretty damned scary in itself - my Dad fell and needed two young men to get him back on his feet. He wasn't drunk at that point, but it obviously scared the hell out of both of them - Dad's reaction being getting drunk every night now. Getting through a bottle of spirits a day Mum says (although to be completely fair, she does exaggerate.) HE thinks it's okay because it's white spirits not whisky! And yet Mum, who can have a scalpel for a tongue when she wants, and regularly berates him for his deafness (!) doesn't seem to be able to address his drinking.

God, I thought we were so normal.
Or at least I thought they were.
We're like something off Jeremy Kyle.

Oh, worse than that--this is a teacher who only teaches the preschool disabilities class. 75% of her students are autistic, and the others certainly have some ritualistic tendencies peculiar to their own conditions. But like I said, the request for a full-size backpack is a completely valid one. It's just that she didn't bother to send the list out until a week and a half before school starts.

Anyway, at this point I've gotten the bigger one (a slightly different design, but still Cars-themed) and sneakily replaced his social story with another copy containing the updated photo. Both backpacks are still hiding in the closet until I can see how he reacts to the new picture.

I'm sure it'll be fine, one way or another. I'm mostly freaking out about everything because I'm about to have to put my kid in someone else's hands for 4 hours a day, and that's kind of terrifying.

I followed the schoolbus on Hebe's first day and cried all the way for no apparent reason -and she'd already been to preschool for 4 years....

it might not all be fine, initially, but it will get there, eventually, and sooner rather than later, I suspect, with all the careful planning and thought you've given it. There's no point telling you not to panic or be terrified, but there's every point in reminding you how awesome you are in the parenting field. :)

You might point that out to her for future reference, she might not have thought of that as being a problem.

A big second on that. :thumb:

Again I am late . . . thirded for sure. It'll all work out just fine.

After an extensive drought, it has rained every fucking day since I started my vacation last Friday. New motorcycle under the carport.

My sister called last night to tell me that my Mom's cancer is getting worse and they cannot put her back on chemo. She's gotten too frail. They give her ~3 mo.

Fuck Cancer.

My sister took Dad on vacation with her, he had 5 "episodes" yesterday... FUCK Alzheimers!

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCK CANCER!

So sorry to hear that dar... :(

Oh dar, and Griff - that's crap.
I'm finding that the older I get the more I am aware that everyone bears a burden of tragedy and sorrow in their life. It is so hard to face the aging and decline of one's parents ...

There may be good news coming on the Dad front. The follow-up after the emergency room with the neurologist is throwing doubt on the Altzheimer's diagnosis. I was pushing for a second opinion which he was going to get in September this may be a blessing in disguise.

Hoping and praying for you and your dad.

Alzheimers killed my Dad... 4 years before his body died. :(

Thanks guys, I appreciate it.

Mum again :(
But differently and less selfishly than usual.

She was SO down yesterday.
I know she had a rotten time with Dads when they were away.
I know he can drink too much, spend too much and be a selfish git.
But Mum usually gives more than as good as she gets (in a rare, intimate conversation, Dad said he drinks to deal with her).

But yesterday she was just hurt and bewildered.
It wasn't in response to anything done or said - and she admitted that.
She just felt tearful and down.
Mum NEVER cries. She was the one who taught me that tears are overly-dramatic and should never be indulged. The reason I didn't cry at Nanny's funeral was because Mum stood next to me not crying and I couldn't let the side down - something that was noted and praised (then again, I only wanted to cry from self-pity - I was imagining my own funeral)

One of the reasons I've brought my issues with Mum here rather than addressing them with her is that I know she's her own person, with her own problems, and never ever meant to hurt or damage me in any way.

It's horrible to see her like this.

I did what I could yesterday. Mum's more about practical gestures than words.
I prepared the vegetables for tea (something she has no issue with, but as gestures go it was there to be done)
I sat in the kitchen and talked to her during the rest of prep, putting on Come Dine With Me, something she only watches with me but loves, especially because we bitch about the contestants.
Dad and I always clear when Mum has cooked, but I brought her a cup of tea too.

Today I heard her worry that she hadn't changed Grandad's bedding, so I went over to do that (10 minute, sweaty job, but I know she'll appreciate the thought).

I don't know. She has a lot of external stresses. Auntie Alice's house sale STILL isn't resolved. I talked her into going to the Doctors but they cancelled the appointment due to illness. So she isn't sleeping and is worrying far too much. Her Uncle is close to death, and although I don't know him, he is Mum's last link with her mother. And their mortgage is coming to term, with the worry that the endowment won't cover it. Lots of things.

I bitch about her, but I love her.
It's small beer compared to other people's problems.
I just wanted to get it out of my head.