We've got a big winter storm in the offing, though no one seems quite sure how big. At one point they were saying we might get as much as 20 inches, but now it's down to 15, and you know it may drop further. It feels like a big mean storm, but feelings don't mean much, really. Kid A and I went to the park this afternoon and I was so cold there I thought I would die. Which is crazy -- it was in the 30s and I was wearing three layers, a hat, and gloves. You don't die under those conditions. But there was a slight wind, and the wind chill was bitter. I thought of people who might spend tonight outdoors and I shivered for them.
We had a somewhat harrowing experience a little later. We had decided to eat out tonight because of the storm -- that is, I figured we wouldn't want to go out at any other time during the weekend, so might as well have Friday night be our treat. I suggested Turley's, a slightly nicer restaurant than our usual Noodles-Denny's choices, because it always has good soup. The boys like soup, and soup sounded good to me on this cold night.
But for some reason, Kid B wasn't up to it. Sometimes he isn't, and we almost never seem to realize it until we're seated. I thought both boys were OK, but I was wrong. Or something was wrong. The trouble started when the waitress came to take our drink orders and I couldn't get Kid B to answer. Finally he shouted at me, "Milk! I told you already!" It's possible he had muttered it. He was concentrating on his placemat (Turley's has paper placements with games on them for kids, and crayons) and did not want to be disturbed. When the waitress tried to take our food order, we had even more trouble. He wouldn't listen to the choices, wouldn't choose anything, yelled at me when I tried to coax him. We ended up not ordering him anything. Then he went under the table, and things went downhill from there.
At that point you might think -- why not leave? And leaving probably would have been the best thing. The problem is, at that point it would not have been possible to leave quietly. Kid B, despite the fact that he clearly wasn't happy, almost certainly would have screamed if we'd tried to go. He has a piercing scream. We probably would have ended up carrying him (screaming) out of the restaurant, like we sometimes did when they were toddlers. The problem is, they're almost seven years old. Big boys. I can hardly carry them.
Why do we ever go to any restaurants, you may be wondering. And I swear to you, sometimes it's fine. There have been many times through the years when it wasn't fine, but the boys are growing up. It's usually mostly fine these days. Except when it isn't.
I think I've mentioned that we're on a list to have Kid B evaluated. For the A word. Which most people think is absolutely ridiculous. And much of the time I think it is crazy too! He's not... that word. He isn't! He's personable, pays attention to other people... sort of. He hardly ever flaps his hands anymore. Sometimes he comes out with original sentences, it's not all quoting.
But then we have a night like tonight. And I'm just not sure.
The people around us (that I could see) were watching us. I saw some frowns, some head shaking. The waitress looked sympathetic and sad. I feel so ashamed when this happens out in public. It's worse than just general bad behavior, when the two of them start kicking each other and fighting. I feel as though I'm the worst mother in the world, taking my poor mentally disabled child out into a situation where he can't cope. But most of the time, these days, he can! Only sometimes he can't.
I'm going to set this aside, as I always do, and find a way to keep going. We won't eat out again this weekend -- I announced that, on the way home, and of course Kid B threw a fit. "Why can't we eat out again this weekend?" No concept of having behaved badly, no sense that anything might result from that bad behavior. No sense whatsoever. But he's a smart kid.
I don't know, maybe it's the low iron. We're working hard on that.
I kind of hope we don't get the big dumping of snow after all, hope we're not trapped in the house all weekend. I have a stack of papers to grade...
Bedtime.
No comments:
Post a Comment