S had a great day today. He checked out a local social service source (not the one I recommended) that helps with GED preparation, offers the test for no charge, and helps with job placement. As he was telling me all about it, I saw a twinkle in his eye that I haven't seen in a long time. I showed him a new job posting from today's newspaper. It was something I though he would enjoy: a greenhouse technician at a local nursery. "What's that?" he asked. You get to play with the plants. "Oh!" He went right over there and applied!! He says he enjoyed the experience and feels pretty excited about the job, and hopes he gets it. Me too, honey!!
I got my living room, kitchen, and Light's room all arranged last night, after Twitch and Diva and Sproing mopped the floor! Yes, they did it, not me. I like that part. Sproing swept up the loose dirt and the three of them got in there with a mop and some rags and a bucket of soapy water. It looked like they had fun. I got a clean floor out of the deal, so I had fun, too.
The things I wanted in each room are now in the desired room. The particular arranging of things, however, is not to my liking yet. But I can do the rest myself. Twitch, bless his heart, helped me move the big things I really needed help with.
S hates the way I have things arranged now. Oh, well.
OH! And get this! S and C have decided to stop smoking! Yesterday S came in and said "I've just had my last cigarette." I saw C smoking this morning and asked about it. He said "This is the last pack." I hope they stick to this. I told S about Quitnet, thank you Torn and Greg for informing me of this handy resource. S was spouting all sorts of things about how much money they will save over a year, how much time will be added to their lives per year if they stop smoking now. You know, the stuff Tornwordo has been telling us since July. (Love you, Torn!)
This just in: I saw S smoking in the back yard this evening. He says they are tapering off gradually. At 7 p.m. he was smoking his third cig of the day. Interesting.
Sproing had an appointment with his therapist this afternoon. He has been doing fairly well, pretty typical by 10.5 year old hyperactive boy standards. She spoke with him for a little while, then let him play in another meeting room while she and I talked. We discussed typical behavior for hyperactive 10-11 year olds with oppositional defiant disorder, things are as normal as they can be, I suppose, keep up the good work, yes it's difficult, etc. Then she said "[Sproing] is lucky to be in your family." Hmmm.
I get that a lot. You know I feel as though we are barely hanging on most of the time. I know how many times I loose my cool, or hide in my room behind the computer screen, or when asked if they can [insert current desire here] say "I don't know. Go ask your father." I am all too aware of the many times I have no clue if what I'm doing is making any difference. I know how often they ignore everything I say. I know how often I say "How many times have I told you ..." This woman is a professional counselor. I'm supposed to trust her opinions, more or less. But like I always do when people say "They are so lucky to have you as their mom," I figure she is mainly being friendly and polite. It is nice to hear, yes, much better than something negative! But even from the professional counselor, I don't fully believe it. We may be a better family than the one he (or she) was born into, I suppose. But I don't think we are any better than most families in our financial/educational demographic. I am thankful for the encouragement, though.
After we left the shrink-wrap center (my name for the psychiatric office) I took Sproing over to Sonic, the drive-in "restaurant," for a cold drink. As we sat in the truck sipping our slushes a red PT Cruiser pulled into the space to our right. A young man, perhaps in his mid 20s, but maybe younger, was the sole occupant. The only thing I specifically noticed about him was that he needed a haircut. Sproing and I discussed the relative merits of PT Cruisers (pretty nice, I think) and red cars (about my least favorite color for an automobile). I heard the young man place his order through the annoying speaker thing, and was surprised at his high, feminine voice. I thought to myself "hmm, could be gay" and continued my discussion with Sproing. A few minutes later, when the car hop brought the guy his order, Sproing was watching and listening. He turned to me and said in an almost hushed tone "Mom, I think he's gay." I said something like "could be," and that was that. I was amused, and wonder what triggered Sproing's gaydar. But I didn't ask.
If there was more I wanted to say I have forgotten what it was. Superman has had some late nights and early mornings the last few days, and so have I. I'm going to pretend to get ready for bed now, as I am tired. If I can just disconnect from this addictive box with its mesmerizing bright screen...
