Week One

This week sucked.

Those of you who have known Connor for the last seven years are NOT surprised by this fact. I'm not surprised either, but for some reason my foreknowledge of how this week would go didn't make it any easier on me.

As expected, Connor DID NOT want to go to school. He hates school, just like I did when I was in elementary school. Also, he particularly hates transitions and changes and all the other things that are specific to the first day of school, just like my father did when he was young. (I've been told he had to be medicated. That's starting to sound like a viable plan for Connor.)

As expected, Connor felt threatened by the loss of control that accompanies starting a new class with new rules and a new warden, er, teacher to impose them. Also expected was how, in response, he aggressively tried to exert control over his home life. Quite frankly- can I say this about my kid?- he's been a real ass this week. I love him dearly, but there's no other way to describe it. And he's been in trouble a LOT, both at home and at school. I mean really, a frowny face on day four? This is the impression he wants to give his new teacher?

But the new wrinkle this year is that Connor's night terrors have really ramped up. Usually they only affect him once every month or two, but in the past ten days or so he's had night terrors all but three nights. He sits up in bed and starts thrashing his head around, screaming and making strange gutteral noises and generally giving me an ulcer. They've been horrible, and much harder to pull him out of than ever before. And we've NEVER had them all in a row like this. Fortunately, he doesn't really remember it the next morning. So he might not be emotionally scarred by the process, but Chip and I sure are!

My amateur diagnosis is that he's had them worse this year because he's trying to mature a bit, trying to hold in some of his anxiety during waking hours. When I dropped him off on the first day of school, he didn't cling to me, or cry, or any of that business. He had to be cool around his friends. But I think he still had to work those feelings out in some way, and maybe he's doing it in his dreams. Or I could be totally wrong. I just hope he grows out of these nightmares before too much longer.

Last night as I tucked him in, I pointed out that Fridays are awesome and this week is almost over. "It doesn't matter," he whined. "Next week will be just like this one!"

God I hope not.