A Day in Hell

I opened the door.

Jozey's teacher frowned and shook her head.

After a week of picking him up and her telling me he was once again defiant, stubborn, and just all out naughty she didn't even have to say anything. I knew he had been naughty today too.

So I bent down and asked him what happened today. He looked at the floor and refused to speak. I held his wrist and told him to look at me. I repeated the question. He looked at me blankly and refused to answer.

I reminded him that he is supposed to listen to his teachers and if they tell him to do something he is supposed to do that. We have already been in twice to apologize for not listening. Clearly we are not making any impression on him.

I tell him he needs to apologize to his teachers. He takes this opportunity to start yelling "owie owie owie" because the grip I have on his wrist is equal to the pain he would experience if I was shoving a hot poker in his eye... or at least he thinks so. This is nothing new. He yells owie if I even rub his head or brush by him. At some point in his life, "owie" must have saved him from facing the consequences of his behavior.

Not today.

"I am not hurting you. You need to apologize to your teachers." I say calmly despite the screaming voices in my head.

He looks at the floor again and refuses to talk.

"Look at me," I repeat four more times. He finally looks up. "You need to tell your teachers you are sorry." He stares at me blankly.

"We will stay here until you apologize," I state. He must finally see I am serious as he apologizes to his teachers. But his is not happy about it and is going to let me know it. He starts pulling away from me. I pull him back so I can let go without him falling on his butt but he takes this as a sign of me trying to control him and he totally freaks out. The tears start, the screaming starts, the foot stomping starts. If I let go now he will go flying across the floor so I hold tight.

I stand and tell his teachers, "He is done." When he gets like that there is no getting anywhere with him. I half drag, half walk him out the door where his fit only gets louder and more out of control. We finally get to the car I snap. I grab his cheeks and look right in his face and yell, "That is enough!"

He cries all the way home. I put him to bed as soon as he gets his shoes and coat off.

I get on the phone and start calling for help. He needs therapy. He needs help. I find a therapist on the advice of his teacher but she can't see us for two weeks. Two long weeks.

Heaven help me.