MONDAY

I had 4 wake-ups with J through the night...even had to move us both to another room to make sure everyone got some sleep. Then at 6am I wake up with the blackest, meanest headache I've ever had. You know the kind...the only way to get some relief is to upchuck. With every bloody heartbeat, I can feel the pounding in my brain. It was awful. Thankfully the kids slept through this part because I wouldn't have been able to deal with them. The sweats start, my mouth is salivating all on its own - interesting how our bodies work - then...nothing. Half an hour later, my headache starts to subside but I'm left with that bruised brain feeling. All this due to skipping sugar in my morning coffee? Bad case of refried beans? Or is it the beginning of round 2 of the super flu that kicked our asses during Christmas? Hmmm?! Gonna be a lonnnng day!

I had the usual small tiffs with Rylee -brush your teeth, eat your breakfast, get off the computer, let's get ready for school. We make the trek over to school - the cold air feels pretty good to me - helps with the nausea. I did manage to get a lie-down during J's nap today - that also helped. But I'm still feeling crappy!

3:20 rolls around and J happily gets into the backpack so we can go get Rylee from school. (insert ominous music here) The usual pleasantries with the other waiting parents are now out of the way and here comes Rylee. Uh oh, she has that glassy, unfocused look in her eye. She's a powderkeg and this is going to be tricky. Must get child home NOWWWW!

For those of you who don't know my family personally, Rylee has autism with a little bit of RAD thrown in for good measure! Fun, fun, fun.

I start talking to her, trying to distract her from this minefield of kids that we have to make our way through. Not working. She's yelling, "I'm not going home with Mom". She gets in line with some other kids who ride the bus. I tell her that if she gets on the bus, she'll go to a stranger's house. "I want to go to a stranger's house". That statement brings wide-eye stares from the other kids. The bus driver is looking at me. All of my tricks aren't working, she's defiant! I have to pull out the threats now in order to get her to move. She goes 30' and then veers off into another bunch of kids. I'm still talking...but she won't have any part of it. Then IT happened. Through all the commotion, a parent steps in between us and says "Is she yours?"

I'm an adoptive parent. I'm used to THAT question. I know I don't look anything like my children and yes they will have to deal with THAT one day in their own way.

But THAT question didn't come with the usual tone this time. She meant - are you sure you should be taking this child away from the school because it's obvious she doesn't have a connection with you. I'm feeling sick, I'm in distress, I could use some help here....all I can muster is a "yes".

Now she's running - towards the street - I can't catch her with Jayme in my backpack. I've resorted to yelling now...to stop! The crossing guard stops her in time - thank you Lil!! One more street to cross, one more wild tantrum while lying on the ground....almost home. She's adamant that she's going past our house and not going in...more screaming...she's in such a state I'm frantic that she'll dart into the street so I grab her coat to get her to stop in the driveway. She's kicking me and screaming at the top of her lungs. I'm sure we were quite the spectacle...but my fear for her safety was outweighing my desire to look sane.

We are finally in the house and within minutes she has stripped down to her underclothes and is doing her run/bounce off the furniture routine. She'll be fine...just needs to let it out. Me on the other hand....sick, exhausted from this latest outburst, emotional, crying over a sink of dishes, defeated!

It wasn't always like this...Ry and I were inseparable just 2 short years ago. She played in the sandbox, I played in the sandbox. She would colour, I would colour. We'd go to the park to play and have fun. There was a bond! I know there was a bond! Now everything is a fight. Every little detail has to be worked out before we do anything or go anywhere. It's an outburst if she gets the wrong coloured cup, the wrong ponytail holder, anything!! And just when I think I have the rules (her rules) straight, she changes them on me. I have become the person who she lashes out at...the person who washes her clothes and feeds her. She doesn't see me as her Mom. There are no "I love you's." I'm a caretaker with a specific purpose - tend to her needs only. And that's really hard to accept!

But Tuesday will be a better day....please God, let it be a better day!