October 2: Therapy Appointment Tomorrow

Tomorrow evening, I have a meeting with my counselor.  She and I are going to talk about my finances.  I'm not looking forward to the conversation.  My wife and I figured out an informal monthly budget--income versus expenditures.  Turns out, informally, I make only about ten dollars more than I spend every month.  That little revelation depressed me quite a bit.

Don't get me wrong.  I love my counselor.  She's been a very good friend of mine for years, and I always leave her office feeling just a little bit better about myself, maybe even hopeful.  That's a pretty good thing.  I could use a little hope in my life.

I can't even sell my plasma for extra money.  I'm an insulin-pump diabetic.  They won't take it.  Something to do with messing up my blood sugar levels and causing health problems.  Whatever.  I could really use that extra $50.

There is no magic solution to these issues.  I know that.  My counselor is probably going to look at the little budget I worked up and ask, "Now, what can you do without?"  At the moment, my answer would be TV, phone, internet, heat, electricity, water, food, and medications.  Basically, I surrender.

I've been banging my head against the wall for weeks, trying to figure out another way to bring in some extra income.  I haven't come up with any legal options.  I could go all Breaking Bad and start cooking meth.

However, Saint Marty hated chemistry in high school.

This would not be a good look for me

October 2: Nose Was Bleeding, Call from Principal, Bipolar Worries

Then he really let one go at me, and the next thing I knew I was on the goddam floor again.  I don't remember if he knocked me out or not, but I don't think so.  It's pretty hard to knock a guy out, except in the goddam movies.  But my nose was bleeding all over the place...

Holden gets the crap beat out of him a couple of times in Catcher.  Stradlater, his dorm mate at Pencey Prep, does the honors in the above passage.  Holden is once again shooting off his mouth, and Stradlater punches him in the face.  I'm not saying Holden deserved the violence inflicted upon him, but he really doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut.

My son punched some kid in the nose today at school.  That was after he pulled some girl's hair on the playground and threw wood chips at the playground aide.  My wife received a phone call from the principal this afternoon.  After two really good days, my son had his worst day yet.

When I spoke to my son tonight, he couldn't or wouldn't tell me what happened on the playground.  Honestly, I'm not too sure he remembered the whole incident, especially what prompted it.  I think he pretty much lashes out in the heat of the moment.  It's like he has no impulse control.  The principal said he doesn't think my son understands that he's hurting people.  This evening, my wife asked me if I thought we were raising a sociopath.  I didn't know how to answer her.

My mind always goes to mental illness because of my experience with my wife's bipolar disease.  I know there are cases where small children develop bipolar.  I've read magazine articles about it.  Frankly, those stories about six-year-old boys and girls jumping out of windows frighten me a great deal.  And right now, my son's behavior frightens me.  I've had friends tell me, "He's just going through a phase."  I don't know where this violent streak is coming from.  Neither my wife nor myself are physical people.  I come from a family of hunters, and I hate guns.  I only got into a fist fight once in my entire school career.  I won the fight, but I felt guilty about it for weeks.

I know I said yesterday that I was giving all this up to God, putting my faith in Him.  Well, yesterday my son hadn't sent a classmate to the nurse's office.  Maybe I'm overreacting.  Maybe my son is going through a phase.  Or maybe my son has bipolar disorder.  I don't know.

But Saint Marty isn't going to sleep too well tonight.

My funny, beautiful boy

October 1: Government Shutdown

I'm not going to write about the United States government shutdown that happened today.  I'm not going to get political.  This isn't a Democrat thing or a Republican thing.  This is a get-the-damn-job-done thing.  I'm tired of politicians playing chicken with people's jobs and lives.

There are government employees who are struggling to pay rent, buy food, support their families.  And then there are bunch of rich, privileged elected officials who have second homes and three cars.  Those officials are holding the country hostage.  They're holding men, women, and children hostage.  And this weekend, whether the shutdown is over or not, they'll hop in their limos and be driven to their five-bedroom, two-bath homes.

Saint Marty's suggestion for the United States Congress and President tonight:  suck it up and get 'er done.  Because if you don't, there's going to be a lot more people out of work come the next election.

I'm tired of this crap

October 1: Curtis Weintraub, My Son Again, Giving Thanks

"This boy, Curtis Weintraub, that's in my class pushed me while I was going down the stairs in the park," she said.  "Wanna see?"  She started taking the crazy adhesive tape off her arm.

Holden's sister, Phoebe, is in elementary school, and this kid, Curtis Weintraub, is making a nuisance of himself.  Phoebe thinks Curtis hates her.  Holden tells her that Curtis "probably likes you."  Phoebe doesn't care for that idea too much.

When my daughter was in kindergarten, she didn't have Curtis Weintraub troubles.  She didn't get pushed or shoved on the playground.  She was friends with everybody.  She still is, and she's a seventh grader now.

In his first month of kindergarten, my son has gotten into more trouble than my daughter got into during her entire elementary school career.  This week, I'm trying something new.  Instead of worrying all day, expecting a phone call from the principal any minute, I'm saying a little prayer (something like "Please watch over him, God"), and then I'm letting him go.  It's difficult, and I've failed a few times.  But God gave me a present this afternoon.

When I asked my son how school was today, he looked at me and smiled.  "I got blue today," he said.

Behavior is measured by colors in his class.  The bad scale goes from yellow (I was a little bad) to orange (I nearly caused bodily harm to someone) to red (the teacher had to call in the S.W.A.T. team).  The good scale goes from green (I didn't eat the glue stick) to blue (I didn't eat my neighbor's glue stick) to pink (I let my neighbor use my glue stick) to purple (I used my glue stick to create a Popsicle-stick model of the Vatican).

My son didn't eat his neighbor's glue stick.  And that's better than he's done since the beginning of the school year.  God watched over him today, and I want to thank Him.

Dear God,

Thanks for having my son's back today.  You know he's been struggling for a while.  But today, he got blue.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I know You've always had my son's back.   You just reminded me of that fact today.  So, thanks for the little lesson in faith and trust, as well.  I think I needed Your help as much as my son did.

God, You rock.

Your loving child,

Saint Marty

My son didn't do this today