When Woodjie gets off the bus, I take his shoes off on the front porch. A zillion grains of sand fly everywhere. I take off his socks. I brush everything down before we go into the house. It doesn't matter if it's 20 degrees below zero; the child will have an entire beach in his shoes. They get removed on the porch.
Next, without fail, it's time to dump the shoes/ coat/ backpack/ everything by the front door and take off all his clothes in the bathroom. Bath time! Get the kid dressed and feed him and his siblings dinner. While they're all eating, I go back to the front door, shake off the coat/ check the backpack for letters and do his school paperwork, pack a snack for the next day and generally tidy the entryway.But the other day, I saw this horrid mark on Woodjie's neck when I was getting him undressed for the tub.
"OH, NO!" I howled. "What happened?"
"Happened!" Woodjie told me.
"No, no... how did you get hurt?"
"Urt!"
"Um... did you fall down?"
"Owwwn?" Woodjie has a big, big smile and is starting to stim with both arms, flappy-style. Now it's a "repeat after Mom" game. Arg.
The teacher has no clue how this happened, but relates that Woodjie has had dooooozie temper tantrums at school. Throwing himself on the floor and making a nuisance of himself, is what he does, though the teacher was very careful to use the educationalese "Woodjie was having trouble making good choices" sort of wording. (Which... is ok by me. Way better than hearing my kid is actin' like a brat, I'd say.) She isn't sure when he got hurt, but she's going to guess it was when he first got off the bus and got angry.
I try not to freak out about stuff like this. I know Woodjie. He can be in my care and sport new bruises that I can't explain. I shouldn't get upset about this! The preschool, I remind myself once again, is my friend. It's in the elementary school that public education can be a horrid place in this district. But it bothers me. Things like this really break my heart. Not so much the scratches (not a biggie), but this idea that my child can be hurt in all kinds of ways and never be able to tell me.
I cried so hard.
You have my prayers and sympathy. Sometimes life just seems so unfair. I just got into a huge battle with Tink that has left me drained! Some days you just have to wonder where we find the strength to go on! Well from God of course, but you know what I mean...
ReplyDeleteI am crying with you, dear friend. Sending prayers and many mental hugs!
ReplyDelete{{{Mrs. C.}}} I'm so sorry. Pamela got bit twice because her inability to read other kids meant she had no idea who the biters were and why she should stay away from them.
ReplyDelete[digital hug]
ReplyDeleteThat's one of the really lame parts of being a blog buddy: I can't do more.
~Luke
Oh, Mrs. C. I'm so sorry.
ReplyDeleteBeen praying for you and Woodjie all night. So sorry. There is nothing worse than not being able to help. I feel like that every time Olivia has a seizure. Hugs to you...
ReplyDeleteMrs. C-
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry. As a Mom this brought tears to MY eyes, and I am not his Mom. I can't imagine the hurt your heart has had to hold. Prayers and a hug. ;)
It is never easy is it? hugs to you my friend
ReplyDeleteI would have cried too...knowing that your wee man can be hurt and not knowing how or by who (if indeed it was done by someone else).... so sad.
ReplyDeleteChris, I do believe the story at the preschool... but it's hard to see things like this and know what happens a few years from now will not be so simple to discern.
ReplyDeleteMy kids should be able to tell me how they got hurt at school, but for some reason all they say is, "I don't know." I hope your son doesn't get hurt again.
ReplyDelete