A few weeks ago as Micah and I were lying in bed, talking about the things that could be going better in our lives – namely Manchild’s school situation – I said that I wished I felt like I was at the end of my rope because that meant a resolution was coming. One way or another. Either I change or the situation changes. I can’t hold on to the end of a rope forever.
We agreed it was maybe a little unfortunate that we weren’t to that place yet. We were still at a stand-off, still waiting and hoping because there were still things to hope and wait for. Meanwhile, time kept going. School started, Manchild didn’t.
And school keeps going. The routines are becoming entrenched, friendships established, rules ingrained. But without Manchild, who still spends his days wandering at my side, where there are fewer things to hope and wait for. Our list of options and opportunities has shrunk to the point where it’s certainly not covering all the bases and it’s a little embarrassing. We were sure we had this thing covered. We were sure we could work it out.
Instead we find ourselves at the end of the rope, swinging back and forth as we get pushed around from one office to another and back again. Micah is still hopeful, happy that at least we’ve reached the stage where we are actually in contact with real people. Which is fine. He can talk all he wants. But I’m just going to stand here and stare down the other options (moving, homeschooling) until I can make peace with them, or, better yet, until the deus ex machina arrives.