I am not going to cry. Really....

Tonight, My 5 year old went to see his classroom during an open house at his school. The older children are already back to school. As we walked around the classroom he clung to me. He would not go to his daddy. I guess my head keeps saying he will be ok after he makes it his own space. That once he feels like he truely believes he belongs there, He will be okay.

But my heart, ached for that scared little boy. My heart screamed, no...just homeschool him. My heart yearned to protect my baby boy. To keep him from having his feelings hurt. To keep him safe. To keep him close where I can protect him.

And as he clung to me and hid his face in me from his teacher, her concern was there too. She asked why he didnt go to preschool. I told her the standard answer, he was not ready. Which is true. Very very very very true.

He is so different then other little kids. His emotions are always right near the surface. He is so caring and empathetic. He is such a very special little boy. But with the caring and knowing that seems far beyond his age, That empathy and pyrimad of emotions that just seem beyond what other children feel. That fear that runs his life. It has been years since the last panic attack. Well, 2 years. Actually, almost 2 years to this month. His sister got stuck in a slide. He could not get her down. He was 3 and a 1/2. She was just 2. The baby still a tiny baby. The other parents, pointing and whispering. He couldnt breathe and he couldnt function and those idiot people just kept making it worse for him to regain control.

He has some sensory Issues. He does not like loud noises and he has problems pushing out the white noise and focusing on the one thing in front of him. It is getting better...but he has a long way to go. I realized that in some ways he is not getting as better as I thought as I watched him at Karate. He has problems focusing on the person working with him when there is a lot going on with the other kids around him. White noise is his enemy.

Then we met the gym teacher at school. And he told my son that he would love his class. 40 kids running around and jumping....But he is wrong. My son will hate that. He will more then hate it...It will be his toughest challenge. I worry about lunch for the same reason. And he wont know anyone. Who will he eat with? Does the teacher make the whole class sit together?

Brian does not think we should overload the teacher with all this information. But, If we do not tell them...how can they best help our son?

As he clung to me tonight in the classroom, I had to fight back the tears. I really had to fight it for his sake. Because he needs me to focus on the positive. To tell him how wonderful it is going to be...even when i am not convinced it is going to be wonderful. He needs me to be strong. He needs me to lead in a way that he can positively follow.

I do not worry about the school work. My son is extremly smart. He could write his own name by his 3rd birthday. He knows every letter in the alphabet and is beginning to read by sounding things out. Phonics apparently is his thing...so is math. He counted to 100 tonight. He has always been able to do simple math. But in so many ways, his little world can come crashing down because someone wants to be mean to him.

I can not protect him. And that....that makes me want to weep. Honestly, weep.

Tomorrow his teacher is bringing by a bunch of papers and information and all that for his home visit. He actually starts school on monday. Maybe its because this is a bad week for me anyway. Saturday, will be 10 years since my mom died. I didnt think it would still hurt this bad after 10 years. But it does. And there are some new problems. It appears we are going to court with the hospital she died in. Her records are mysteriously missing and they have a "fake" death report for her. Not to mention that the autopsy was done by a local yokal instead of the baltimore cornoner. A local yokal btw who had no reason to be doing the autopsy anyway. Dieing at 41 may just of not been of "natural causes". And in fact, every indicator is pointing towards something fishy.

My grandmother is in the hospital...well out now...with pneamonia. I had it this month too. My grandma turns 87 next week. The same day that it will of been 10 years since we buried my mom. I always regret we had to bury her on grandma's birthday.

Well, As a week goes....this one is a bust. But I will not cry...I will not cry. I cant. Not right now. I have to be strong for my son. I have to tell him that it really is a wonderful thing he is going to school. and it is. Do not get me wrong. But my heart aches for all that I can not do to protect him. Protect the special little boy he is. The wonderful kid he is. He is my Christmas blessing. My Best christmas present ever from God. And for him....I will not cry....even when my heart breaks watching him leave the first day for school.