Snarl

Son#3 is only four.

Next month, five.

A parent-teacher meeting gone very wrong.

His teacher wants to fail him for group 1, kindergarten.

How does one fail kindergarten?

All the while it seemed as if she was trying to get back at me for some reason, inserting sarcasm, like 'What did you expect?'.

He flitted in and out of the class during the meeting, and I'm sure picked up on the hostility.

He's been up a few times already and it's only midnight.

Although he has no compulsory education yet which will start when he turns 5, I have kept him home too often, and he missed crucial instructions that will fuck up his entire future, according to her.

Never mind that the same teacher sent him home for peeing in his pants.

She turned redder and redder in the face, and I cut off the talks, leaving with trembling hands.

The husband had a literal melt-down.

He can't relax, can't accept living here, hates his job, my illness and a legion of problems.

I keep thinking that, if we are lucky, we will live to be as old as the husband's parents, go for bike rides, read books.

All the while, we would have endeavoured to give our kids a good life, but what is that 'good'?

That thought has kept me awake for weeks.

Turning out like my in-laws, living their life, staving off death and mitigating old age?

I have fallen deeply into a gap in the earth.

Surely - SURELY - there is MORE.

Show me the bleeding money, Universe.

.