One of Those...

This afternoon, when I picked Radley up from his SEVENTH day of school, I got accosted by the teacher.  For the FOURTH time in SEVEN days.  And like all teachers do, before she started telling me about the problem, she made sure to emphasize the positive.  “Radley is a really amazing little boy.”  Yeah.  I know that.  “And he’s very logical.”  I know.  “But he’s very impulsive.  And he can’t seem to stop himself once he starts acting on an impulse.”  Yeah.  I know.  He doesn’t listen.  We’ve been dealing with this for quite some time.  “And he has very low self esteem.”  Wait.  What?  And I just lost it.  LOST.  IT.  Tears.  Snot.  Red face.  More Tears.  I don’t know why, but I told her “It’s because of me.  It’s because I don’t think that I deserve anything.  It’s because I don’t think that happiness is an option.  It’s because I don’t see my own attributes.  I didn’t try to project those feelings onto him.  I tried to protect him from it.  And I tried to make him feel loved and appreciated and smart and talented.  But I didn’t.”  And this kind woman looked at me and said “We’re all just trying to do the best we can.”  More tears.  MANY.  MORE.  TEARS. 

Alright, time for the dentist. 

So, as we drove to the dentist, I dried my tears and I asked my baby how his day was.  And just like his mommy, when she has a bad day, he didn’t want to talk about it.  So, I let him eat his otter pop in peace and I listened to Jackson Browne.  When we got to the dentist, we sat in the waiting room.  He drew and I watched his imagination unveil its infinite creativity, in crayon, on the pages of a piece of notebook paper.  And I started to feel better.  By the time the dental tech came to call us back, I felt a lot better.  I felt relief that my little boy is so resilient and capable of channeling his emotions creatively. 

I guess now’s a good time to mention why we were at the dentist.  He needed a dental exam to start school.  So, Mike took him a couple of weeks ago, while I was at work.  Radley had a hard time with the x-rays.  Which of course, I wasn’t surprised about.  It may be the listening thing.  It may be the following directions thing.  It may be because he gets real nervous in new environments.  So do I.  But anyway, that’s why we were there.  We were there to shoot x-rays and to get a treatment plan on filling a few cavities.  I can’t say I was surprised about the cavities.  It’s been very well documented that tooth-brushing is a struggle with this kid.  Well, we got the images of his teeth taken.  And I went to go talk to the Doc about the treatment plan.  And she was very somber.  Not judgmental, but somber.  Because there are more cavities than I would like to admit.  I know doctors.  I know dentists.  I know medical professionals and how they respond to things.  I’m used to the “look.”   The look says “I’m here to do my job, but I need you to do your job, too.”  It says “I’ll help you, but start helping yourself, too.”  I know.  I give that look to patients all the time.  It’s a lot harder to accept when you are on the receiving end.  And because I’m the kind of person who always looks to blame myself, before I blame anyone else, I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t speak.  She saw that in my face, and said “would you like to come back next week to discuss my treatment plan?  I think sedation dentistry is the best way to go.”  I told her “I understand your words, but I have no idea what they mean right now.  So, yeah.  How about next week?”  Done.  Then, as the tech is walking me to billing, she asks me if we have insurance.  I said “yes.  I gave the information over the phone when I made the initial appointment and his dad gave it to you again when they were here last time.”  And she looked at me and said “So, you don’t know?”

Uhhhhh…..No.  I just told you.  (Believe it or not, that was in my head.  I didn’t say it out loud.  I know that a lot of people don’t think I have a filter, but when I work with medical professionals, I do try to show them the courtesy that so many do not afford my colleagues.)  So, the dental tech walked in to discuss this “confusion” with the doc and the billing girl, just feet away from where I am sitting.  And I hear the dentist say, “Yeah, they are divorced.  She’s one of those.”  I thought that maybe she thought I was being unreasonable because I was so overwhelmed.  And I got up to walk over an apologize for coming off as nonresponsive or difficult, because I honestly, was just having a hard couple of hours and the visit to the dentist kind of blindsided me.  But as I walked up, the tech said “Yep.  She is one of those.”  And instead of apologizing for behavior that isn’t near as appalling as I have to accommodate, on a regular basis.  I said “Ladies.  Please.  No more.”  But there was more.  While I was still waiting for them to figure out the billing woes, at the expense of my character and my self-esteem, the tech came out and stood behind me and said “It’s OK.  I was one of those once, too.  You’re just doing the best you can.” This time there were no tears.  This time the rage welled inside me.  WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK DOES THAT MEAN????  What. 

What does it mean to be “one of those?”  I knew this was how people envisioned me.  I knew this was the judgment they placed on me.  I’ve know that my failed marriage and my modest lifestyle were the reasons for the stares and the looks of sympathy and the whispers.  I knew that I was being judged because my lifestyle doesn’t conform to societal expectations.  But really, what does “one of those” mean?  Does it mean one of those who chose to serve her country at 18?  Does it mean a woman with a college education that was paid for, mostly at her own expense?  Does it mean the 30k she owes the government for that education?  Does it mean the job as a public servant that barely pays the fucking rent and student loans?  Does it mean the 1,300 illegitimate children she has adopted as her own, and has committed to herself to improving their health and well being and who she loves and looses sleep over?  Maybe it’s about the child who is a free spirit who doesn’t conform to social norms.  Maybe it’s because she chose not to accept a dime in child support.  Or the home she chooses to maintain in one of the most affluent counties in a state where the cost of living is near double the national average.   Maybe it’s because she doesn’t have cable television and her child asks to watch Mickey Mouse movies in French.  Maybe it’s because she questions her parenting, publicly, instead of hiding behind a facade of bullshit and illusions of perfectly parenting a perfect child.  Maybe it’s because of the jobs I am trying to figure out how to line up so she can afford a sedation dentist.  Or maybe it’s because she doesn’t shut her kid up in a restaurant by handing him a cell phone or a video game? 

Is that it?  Are those the reasons?  What does “one of those mean?”  Somebody PLEASE tell me.  Because if the world sees an honest, but turbulent existence as a hindrance or an eye sore, I will be happy to live on the fringes of society.  Just let me know if you are going to judge me, because I will be happy to return the favor.