I learned a long to time ago not to let my mother call anyone for me.
In sixth grade I came home crying because a boy, who had been teasing me all year, had taken my library book then slide across the floor on it like a skate board.
At the time I was a little afraid of librarians. One I had in Elementary school once threw things at me because an eraser got lodged in the book as I pulled it from my backpack when I asked to renew it.
Anyway, I came home crying. My mother happened to be there. I remember begging her to do nothing. She called the principal.
Too bad the principal was this boy’s Uncle.
I got sentenced to “special time” with other mentally disturbed kids where I was “evaluated” every other day. I was repeated ask to bring home forms for my parents to give permission for me to be transferred to various “helpful places”. I learned to forge my mother’s name. Later I learned they never talked to my parents about me.
Mostly we colored and talked. It was a lot of crap.
After sixth grade the principal left and they began experimenting with mixing 7th and 8th graders together. No more nut-job time but lots of teasing and I got to go to 8th grade twice while skipping 7th grade. That’s a whole nother weird story.
So my mother, who is trying to help in her own twisted way, called my Aunt to talk to the real estate agents who are giving me a hard time about my house not being cleaned by professionals yet. Since yesterday was and extremely upsetting day, can’t say why yet…I promise there will be a whole blog post about it when this is settled, my mother’s declaration of calls ended with me screaming at her on the phone…frantically calling my aunt then apologizing to J. for all the drama. (He was incredibly sweet about the whole thing and got lots of hugs.) I don’t handle stress well. You should how bad it gets if I don’t take my thyroid medication.