Not one but TWO crazy children!

So yesterday I told you that Diva went all batshit and set fire to her bedroom. Well, to a small pile of trash in her bedroom. The more I think about it, though, the more it disturbs me. She easily could have caught the whole house on fire. I don't need that shit.

Today at school she told a guidance counselor that she tried to kill herself yesterday by setting herself on fire. Seriously? I don't think that's exactly what happened. She didn't burn herself. The fires? (she also lit one in our fire pit in the back yard) Maybe just a means of expression. I don't really know. Anyway, I got a call from the guidance office that I needed to come pick her up and take her to the emergency room because of this threat of self harm. I picked her up, indeed, but took her to the department of mental health office to talk to her therapist. Much cheaper than an ER visit. I've taken her to the ER three times within the last year for that reason, and she's never serious about the threat. It's attention seeking behavior. We had a brief conference at the school before I took her. In attendance were two people from guidance and the school resource officer, plus me and our service coordinator who just happened to be here to meet with me when all this shit went down. Diva admitted to the group of us that she did not intend to hurt or kill herself.

So we left, Diva, me, and the service coordinator, and motored to the Dept. of Mental Health offices where Diva condescended to actually communicate with her therapist. They had a lovely talk and Diva was all sweetness and light afterward. WTF. I took her back to school.

That whole exercise took 2.5 hours out of my morning. I barely had time to get a bean burrito from Taco Bell on the way to the doctor's office for my 1:00 appointment. The doctor checked his handiwork on my belly (from the hernia surgery three weeks ago) and said all looks good, I can do whatever I please. Well, that's nice.

I got home from the doctor's office and headed for the shower. Didn't have a chance to get one this morning before being called to the school. Checked my phone as I was disrobing, as I'd turned the sound down in the doctor's office. Lo and Behold there was a missed call and voice mail from the 9th grade assistant principal. This time the call concerns Sproing, who got into a fight during lunch and is now suspended for six days. Please come pick him up now. And you know, I had just begun to feel a little bit better after the escapades of this morning. So instead of taking a shower, I drove back to the high school to nab Sproing. I am not amused. He is not humbled by the experience. I told him he is in trouble, and he says he isn't. Dude. It's not your decision as to whether or not you are in trouble. You choose your behavior, Daddy and I decide what consequences result from that behavior. He doesn't get it. Superman had to come home and apply the belt to his backside a couple of times to rearrange the boy's thought process.

I did finally get my shower. I'm now in Superman's old night shirt, sitting on the bed telling you all about my mess. And I've had an Ativan. Frankly I don't feel much better. Maybe not as frantic as I was, but I am still shaky and emotionally fragile. Have only had 1 mg, am going to take one more. Then perhaps I'll take a nap. I like naps.