Oh good it's a new day!

Today is a new day, and although I’m still as broke as I was yesterday, I awoke with feeling less stressed. This lasted about ten minutes, until P came into the bedroom and announced he didn’t feel well and must have a temperature.

On any other day this wouldn’t be a problem but yesterday I discovered, yet again, that I’ve not being paying attention. You see, I called J’s soon-to-be-new school and asked about the opening times of the school uniform shop. And it was a good job I did call, because today (Tuesday) is the last time it’s open this term (before September!). And to make matters that little bit harder it’s only open for forty-five minutes between 2:45 and 3:30 this afternoon. (Is it only me who’s thinking ‘Bloody hell, how very thoughtful!’?)

Being that my boys get out of school at 3:15 I immediately started planning how I would get the boys (not just my boys, but O too, whom I also look after) to walk up to the BetterHalf’s college and wait for me there, whilst I get J her new uniform and bribe persuade S to sit quietly.

So P’s sudden illness was yet another spanner in the smooth running of my so-called-life. Except he didn’t have a temperature, and he wasn’t clear on what the aliments were.

R, being the eldest and something of a smart-ass, got in on the proceedings and announced (in a most un-diplomatic way) that P was faking. In fact I had already worked this out, but unlike R, I wanted to understand why, and know that the best way to deal with P is slow and careful. Unfortunately R seems to think he knows best, and started a riot before I had even managed to get out of bed!

By the time I managed to stop P attacking his brother, his hysterics were so bad there was no way I could send him to school. So I now have three children to take to J’s new primary this afternoon, to buy a uniform I can’t afford!

But I did manage to go and a see P’s teacher. She’s concerned too, and we both think there’s a good chance he’s been faking illnesses a lot lately. She kept mentioning how quiet he is at school, and how he doesn’t really mix with the other boys and we agreed I’d speak to him this morning and fill her in tomorrow.

God I wish I hadn’t. The poor little sod is so unhappy I’m beginning to think we may have a bigger problem than I previously realised. Except for four boys, he’s convinced everyone hates him and he wants to leave the school. If we lived anywhere else in the world we may have some choices as to what to do. But not here. Here, our options are very limited. And trying to explain this to a sobbing child is enough to crush a stone heart – and my heart isn’t made of stone. And even if I could get him into the other boys’ school (which is debateable as it’s very academic) I’m doubtful that things would be much better for him there.

He’s named the people who are making his life a misery – but what can I do? They’re not beating him up, or even calling him names (very often) and I can hardly go stomping around to the parents and demand their children stop being mean to my baby boy.

He says he’s told the teachers what goes on, but because he’s not being physically hurt, they won’t do anything. So I’ve given him an ‘empowerment speech’, and asked if he really wants to let these boys to dictate his future by driving him out of his school. I’ve suggested he challenge them, ask them what they’re looking at, laugh back at them, and make fun of their names/skills. He’s quite amazed that I’m saying this, but I figure this way it’ll come to a head, and meanwhile I guess I’d better make enquiries at the other school…


p.s. Later this luchtime: I have spoken with BH. Apparently this is partly my fault, for having a soft-spot for P and I baby him too much. P is over sensitive, and will not be changing school, but instead will have to deal with the situation, and should stop whining to his mother.