So...after waiting several years for the money to get new glasses for myself, I was psyched about going to Walmart to pick them up yesterday morning. My husband had previously loaded up the big van and had taken all the kids off to their riding lessons at the therapeutic riding center.
Realizing my phone was dead I plugged it in to recharge and then I drove to Walmart and picked up my new glasses. YAY! While I was there I found two nightgowns for myself, each costing $8. I was having a great time out by myself, but I needed to get home to feed the dogs.
Almost as soon as I got home the phone rang (not my cell-the other phone.) It was my husband and all he said was "I need your assistance." I assumed I needed to talk Jeremy down from something, but he said no, just to meet him just south of Orange Grove Blvd.
Of course I'm thinking CAR WRECK. He had refused to elaborate, just said to come. So I got back in the little van and drove down to Orange Grove. The big van was sitting on the side of the road with blinkers on. I pulled off and got out of the car and then I saw Jeremy sitting on the sidewalk, my husband standing beside him and a police officer talking on a radio.
I learn that Jeremy had been acting up in the van and had thrown one of his riding boots out of the car. So Dad had to stop the car to get it back, when Jeremy opened the car door and plopped down on the sidewalk and refused to move.
So I don't know WHAT the cop was thinking. Probably, Is this white guy trying to kidnap this African American kid? So, anyway, I knelt down besiude Jeremy and began the sweet talk that sometimes is the only thing that makes him comply after he blows up. Then two more police cars pull up. I thinking NICE WORK, JER!
I finally get him to agree to get up and come home with me in the little van. So he stands up and says, with a final effort at defiance, that he's going home with Dad in the big van. She he gets in and heads home, leaving me with the police officer.
I tell him that Jeremy is severely behavior disordered and attends the county's highest level school for MR kids with severe behavior problems. He says, yeah your husband told me.
So I get in the car and come home, where it's as if nothing had ever happened with the boy. He's fine. Like a switch flipping off.
The rest of the day is uneventful. It could have been worse. In fact HAS been worse at times. Just our life on a different planet from most parents'.