First day of school.
Thank you JESUS.
After all the power struggles between myself and his 2nd grade teacher last year about holding him back...
Al is doing 2nd grade again.
I left the final decision up to him.
I pray to goddess I'm doing the right thing here...it's a catch 22, but if it gives the little guy a chance to be a real leader for once, I have to try.
Last night while Al was in the tub, I was telling him about the summer he was three. It was then that he started asking to go to school.
He would pack my backpack with folders, writing tablets, pen and pencils...and stand at the front door watching the kids walk down the street to the neighborhood school.
Three. Turning Four that August.
He was already reading phonetically, and was beginning the basics of math...so I thought, why not let him have half a day of Pre-K?
That year school started early, August 17th or so, and the backpack he picked out was bigger than him..."Rugrats" with wheels, because he was just soooo tiny, so precious in his little navy khaki shorts and white oxford shirt...
Al loved school from day one, the Pre-K teachers were very good, and every evening I got a re-cap of the mornings events. The decision to let Al start Pre-K two weeks after tuning Four seemed like a good one.
Then there's the chapter I don't tell...
On Friday evening, the start of the Labor Day weekend, at exactly 5:15 p.m., two Oklahoma City police officers and a DHS Case Worker I'd never seen before, knocked on my door.
They presented me with an emergency pick-up order for Al, signed by the Judged two weeks prior.
The allegations were as follows:
- Al was left unattended in the yard, as witnessed by neighbors. (never)
- The anti-seizure medication I was taking incapacitated me to effectively parent (same medication I take today)
What I now know happened, due to "Moles" within the Department, is the Foster mother per case workers suggestion, made bogus referrals on me in order to halt the return of my daughter Athena.
Al was taken by police car, to the shelter at the juvenile center, where he was held for two weeks while they tried to find a placement for him. He was not protected from older children at the shelter, I'll let you figure the rest out.
The state immediately moved to terminate my parental rights to both of my children, based on failure to correct the condition which led to the removal of my daughter at birth...which was my daughter testing positive for benzodiazapines prescribed by my physician...and domestic strife.
2+4=5
Every 30 minutes for two weeks Al called me crying "Come get me mama." But I couldn't. Never in my life have I felt such rage and helplessness. "Come get me mama, I want to come home."
During Al's stay at the shelter, he was taken to the emergency room twice for a bilateral ear infection. Once with a temp of 105 degrees...because my worker, a woman who places her love for Satan above anything else, refused to believe Al was sick..."He's faking, he just wants to see you, that's all."
The entire time Al is in the shelter, I'm gathering evidence to show the pick-up of Al was not only bogus, but unethical as hell. I have letters from Doctors, neighbors, teachers, daycare providers, clergy, it just goes on...a huge stack. I have random U/A's I'd been getting on my own...I have tons of evidence because I was trying to get my daughter home.
Now the bastards had both of my children, and I was too poor to fight them.
In the end they won, a year later I gave up my rights to Athena and they returned Al no questions asked... on their end anyway.
The year Al was gone from me left a mark on his soul, taught him I could not protect him from the kidnappers of the world, the cruel grandfathers, icy social workers.
He spent a year in a Head Start program, and daycare...with his free time alone at the end of a trailer in rural Cleveland County...
The two years Al has spent trying to 'catch up' emotionally have been hard...we all wish on a level we could return to play doh, blocks, nap time and show and tell...but Al seemed to need it more than others.
I screwed up.
I should have let him re do Kindergarten when he came home, but I was trying to put as much distance as I could between us and the events of the year before.
We live and learn...and know our children survive our screw ups. We are good parents. You are a good parent.
"He's faking...he just wants to see you."
You do the math. You are a good enough parent, and you can survive this...whatever it is.
I guarantee it.
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