Rant Rant Rant

Last year when we lived in Texas I signed Owen up for preschool.  We went and toured the place and the time schedule worked out perfectly for Scott to take him each day.  (what?  me get up when it's still dark outside?  are you kidding?)  Of course as soon as we left Owen said there was no way he was going, he'd just stay home with me.  I guess because I was never the one taking him to school I must have misunderstood what Scott meant when he said "He cries a little when I drop him off."  Plus, after a while he must have stopped because it was never mentioned again.  So basically he was going two days a week and was going in fine and having a great time and making lots of friends.

Now here we are in Georgia and Owen is going to Pre-K.  It's 5 days a week from 8:00a to 2:30p.  I have taken him every single day, which means getting up when it is still dark outside as it seems that's when the schools here start their day.  And let me take a minute to ask Why?  Why so early?  Call me and let's talk about, say, noonish.

Anyway, I have this schedule, and we stick to it exactly, or Mama gets all anxious and the drive to school gets a little hairy.  Well, Owen cried for the first 4 days of preschool.  And I'm not talking about normal crying.  I'm talking about wailing and screaming.  At first I felt bad about it, especially when he hollered "Mama!  Don't leave me!  I DON'T KNOW THESE PEOPLE!"  I mean, here I am going on and on about them staying where I can see them at all times so a stranger doesn't grab them and then I go and leave him with a bunch of strangers.  What else is he supposed to think besides Mama is a hypocrite?  So we had a little talk about how I would come back every single day and get him and he would be fine and blah blah blah and finally we had a talk about how THERE WOULD BE NO T-BALL, since he's a crybaby who cries like a baby every single feakin day and babies don't play t-ball.  And there would be no cleats, and I'd take the bat bag and the glove and the bat back to the store.  Well, lo and behold he quit crying.  He went in, hugged me bye and sat down at his place at the table and started playing.  Then, the next day he went in and acted like he didn't even know me.  All last week and Monday of this week he had no problems at all.

Then on Tuesday I had an appointment and I couldn't pick him up, so I sent my dad, Pops, to get him.  I told his teacher my father would be getting him and yes, he was on the pick-up sheet as an approved pick-up person and Owen heard me and started crying.  No, crying isn't the word.  He started having some type of fit that rivaled the exorcist.  I managed to get out of there and left him yelling but then my dad went to get him and Owen started again, saying he didn't want anybody but me, and refusing to leave with my dad.  Well, my dad won that one, but he wasn't too happy about it.  On Wednesday Owen cried.  And today Owen cried.  And guess what?  I'm sending my aunt Joan to get him today because I have to go to the dentist.  It's going to be mayhem.  

I told Joan "Look, if he screams and stuff and you can't get him then just call my dad."  And she was all "I outweigh him by 120 pounds, I can get him to the car."  But here's the deal:  YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND.  You will not be able to manhandle him because his will is too strong.  Three grown adults were holding him back when I left this morning and HE WAS WINNING.  

What in the world am I supposed to do about this?  This is separation anxiety at it's very worst.  If I take away stuff it doesn't seem to work.  And I've threatened to take away t-ball but they all know I'm not going to actually do that, not when me pulling him off the t-ball team would cause Scott to lose his will to live.  I need help.  I need answers.  I need a therapist.

(the above part was written earlier today but I forgot to post it)

And I'm not even going to get into what I went through today with the jackasses down at the elementary school where the girls go, I'll just say this:  If you're going to make me fill out a list of people I approve to pick up my children and then you are not going to let my children go with said approved people then WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF THE DAMN LIST?  "We don't dismiss through the office.  Ever."  What kind of bullshit rule is that?  Will I ever get back the gas you caused me to waste today driving all the way out there?  Will I ever get back those cell phone minutes I wasted when I called to try to change all my plans when I didn't have to?  Will the dentist ever get back those precious minutes with his family he lost today because me being late (because of you) caused him to have to work a few minutes later?  Will I ever get back those brown hairs that immediately turned to gray when I realized my child might be stranded?  Will I ever get back the years of my life you caused me to lose when you caused me unnecessary stress?  Will I ever be able to forget the fake sincerity on your face when you said you "guessed you could bend the rules because of my situation, because it must be so hard?"  I DON'T THINK SO.  

And don't talk to me about my "situation" ever again.  And don't talk to me about hard.  You have no idea.  Don't presume to know me.