As you know, I’m not a thrill-seeker, in spite of once doing this and this.
But, I like to think that there are still some adrenalin-inducing pleasures still out there that I might one day enjoy.
And then I remember. I am a mother and a dipstick. And this week was a hell of a ride.
Monday. A trip to our hot lovely pediatrician. We were awaiting EEG results to see if BW could stop taking his epilepsy meds. I was very nervous.
Good News! Results all clear, so we can begin weaning him off the meds. After 9 years. Scary stuff.
Then Paed wanted to discuss meds for ADHD. I wrote about our dilemma here.
Cue more feelings of nausea, but once meeting was over, I was OK.
Tuesday and Wednesday were reasonably calm. If by calm you mean shouting “teeth” and “shoes” 20 million times before and after school. Not to mention the great “Battle of the Homework”. Not to mention dealing with the fall out from a poorly executed blog post…
The White Knuckle Ride didn’t really gather speed until Thursday when BW’s counsellor had to cancel their appointment at the last minute due to ill-health.
Poor BW. It was too much. A 4 hour melt down (I am not exaggerating) ensued. He wanted me, he didn’t want me. He wanted to speak to counsellor, He was never seeing her again. He wanted to be wrapped, he wanted to be left alone.
All this with me trying to cook dinner, reassure CM and not drown myself in vat of gin.
By 8pm the ride had slowed. My beautiful boy was back and my blood pressure returned to normal. Ish.
Friday, Friday, got to get down on Friday. Right?
Coffee plans with a girlfriend and then lunch with a tweep, in the city.
Just what I needed.
Friday dawns. I’m so on it.
Half way through doing the lunch boxes I ask BW to get his bike ready for school. He has Bike Ed on Fridays.
“Mum, the bikes are locked together”.
“Where’s the key?”
Yes, where is the effing key?
Oh.
No, he hasn’t.
The sound of the F-bomb being dropped by TS at the end of the phone confirmed my worst fears.
It was now 9.55am. School starts at 9.
Shouting “TEETH”, “SHOES” and trying to finish the lunch boxes I start to attack the bike lock with a pair of pliers. (FYI, I have added bolt-cutters to my Christmas List) BW has tapped into last night’s melt down and is preparing to unleash the sequel.
“I AM NOT GOING TO SCHOOL WITHOUT MY BIKE”. Don’t blame you dude.
My heart is pounding. My knuckles are white trying to get the bastard lock undone.
Shouting down the phone at TS “to get his arse back here pronto”, I try to convince BW that it will all be sorted. I hope.
We finally stomp off to school, BW and I muttering under our breath about TS.
I am exhausted.
(TS dropped key off and crisis was averted, but we both felt terrible for the adult cock ups that caused BW so much stress)
Do you ever feel like you are on a theme park ride?
presentimperfection 
