And the “Nasty” award goes to…

As I am sure you all have noticed by now, my love and I have two entirely different approaches to life.  Especially when it comes to conflict.  Beck is a fan of the direct approach:  yell, shout, make your point, throw a bare knuckle punch if necessary (a little humor there, she doesn’t actually brawl).  Whereas I am very quiet and tend to smooth things over.

Today, Becky learned that quiet and sweet do not equal passive.

We have a blended family here, and I love her boys as I love my own two.  It’s the same for her.  We look at the five of our children and see only that: OUR children.  Okay, so some of them are not biologically each other’s children, but in the ways that matter, these are our kids.

The eldest has been having some trouble in school (not the kind that relates to me having cancer).  He was classified ADHD, and then taken out of his intervention program based upon, well, several factors.  This plan of attack is not working, and he is floundering.  This morning we had a meeting with his principal, the resource teacher, the school psychologist, and his teacher.  At least, his teacher was supposed to be there.  After her entire lack of response to any attempts at communication from us, it came as no great surprise that the meeting had already been going for 30 minutes and she was still a no-show.  We were receiving great information, a lot of support for the first born, but no teacher involvement.  So, sweet little quiet me asked “Is there any way you can explain the complete non-responsiveness of his teacher when we have asked her to address these issues?”  Strangely enough, she arrived two minutes later.  And she kept her back turned to us, and refused to make eye contact.  Unfortunately for her, she was seated RIGHT NEXT TO ME.  So, I continually touched her forearm and forced her to turn and interact with us.  Towards the end, even though she represented herself as the final authority on special education (and was told by the principal, the psychologist, and the special ed teacher that she was incorrect), I recapped her vast superior statements in far larger and more academic terms than she had used, and asked her to confirm or deny if that was what she had meant.

Primo will get what he needs from his school, and in the future.  That was a win.  And Becky looked at me in the parking lot, shaking her head and laughing, and said, “you’re a nasty bitch, you know that?”  Why yes, yes I do.  Just because I do not bluster or make a lot of noise does not mean I do not put people in their places when it is necessary.  If you want a figurehead, don’t come to me.  If you want a general to win the war, I’m your girl. 🙂

I am a huge proponent of giving people enough rope to either make a go of it or hang themselves.  And I do not discriminate based upon WHO someone is.  Talk is cheap, it is action that matters.  And Primo’s teacher is not the only one who received that lesson this week.

Biology does not make parents.  Love, concern, and commitment are what create a family.  And as unconventional as it may be, those three things we have in abundance here. 🙂

Blessings to all…

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