When the school calls……
The name of the school comes up on my phone.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
My first words are, “Oh God.”
I clench my jaw.
I make a weird throat sound that’s more “submitting wolf” than human.
I drop my head into my hand.
I close my eyes.
And I answer the phone.
In a voice that does not hide that I have “the school is calling” PTSD.
Symptoms? Listed above.
Cause? My son.
My son is what I like to call a ‘mobile learner.’ He’s never been, nor will he ever be, that kid who can sit quietly for hours cutting, pasting, worksheeting, etc. This plus a kindergarten teacher who had never had children, and who “didn’t know if she ever wanted to have children” after teaching her first year, landed my son in the principal’s office almost every week. The assistant principal got to the point where he wouldn’t even say hello to start our conversation. He would start with “EVERYTHING’S OKAY.”
My son’s mobile, no fear, approach to life also lent itself to injuries. When the assistant principal started having to call to report visits to the office and injury reports, I started answering the phone with “Oh God! What now?!” The assistant principal started calling my husband instead.
Poor, sweet, man.
Last week the school called 5 minutes after my son was picked up by the bus…before school had even started.
The phone rang. The name of the school came up on the phone. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I thought, “what could possibly have happened in the last five minutes, for the love of God!” I clenched my jaw. Made the weird “I submit” sound. Dropped my head into my hand. Closed my eyes. And I answered the phone.
I was relieved to learn my son had projectile vomited on the bus on the way to school.
Yes, it gets to the point where you’re relieved your child is just spitting pea soup.
I decided this anxiety had to stop.
The Cure? Change the name of the school to the hottie of your choice and enter his/her picture into the contact info on your phone.
I changed the name of my kids’ school to Chris Evans, and I entered Chris Evans’ picture into the contact.
From here-on-out, when the school calls, Chris will look at me like, “Girl, don’t sweat this. I got stuff for you.”
I can’t wait!
Author’s note: If you know Chris Evans, Chris won’t work for you, because it would be hard to tell who was actually calling. So you probably should pick another hottie. Although, if you actually do know Chris Evans, a little thing like the school calling probably never gets you down. Also, if you know Chris Evans well enough that his number and picture are already programed in your phone… please call me. I think we should hang out more.