Second Chances

Youngest Son missed passing the written test to receive his driving learner’s permit yesterday by just one question.  It was disappointing.  The experience was not bad, however, and his reaction was good.  His disappointment was at an appropriate level and he just geared himself up to come home and study some more and try again.  He did that this morning and passed.  He is so proud of himself.  Me, too.  (Yes, of me.  I did a LOT of work to get that boy to the point where he could respond appropriately to a big disappointment – to having to wait.)  I am exceedingly proud of him.

The lady at the state level DMV office yesterday just gushed over how cute he was as a 12 year old boy.  She loved the picture on his Certificate of Citizenship (COC).  Thankfully, she didn’t make the mistake so many do and say, “I wish you were mine” (or something like that).  We sure wouldn’t have needed that little trigger on my RADish boy.  It could have been step one to the spiral that turns into the whole “this is your fault” (directed at me) when he failed the test yesterday.  Step two:  I wish I belonged to that lady, too.  Step three:  You should have spent more time with me on this.  Step four:  I hate my life.  Step five:  . . . . .

Well, you get the picture.

But she didn’t say that.  And it didn’t happen.  (Thank you, LORD!)

And therapy (DBT) taught him to feel the feelings, know he could be triggered, but reel those feelings in and respond appropriately.   So, if you see a car going in ovals around an abandoned store’s parking lot today and there’s a teenage boy and a frightened-looking middle aged mom in the front seat, it may be us.  Yay us!

Well, Today is The Day

I’ll admit it.  I have not necessarily looked forward to this day.  In fact, I put it off for as long as I possibly could.  However, time marches on, despite my objections.  The 12 year-old little boy that I brought home from Eastern Europe four and one half years ago is no longer a little boy.  He is finishing up his freshman year of high school and will be a sophomore in the fall.  Where we live, that means he’ll take driver’s education classes this summer.  We need to get his learner’s permit prior to that.  We are on spring break in our town and we’re catching up on a lot of things we’ve put off.  Today is the day to go for the learner’s permit.

In our state, students can get a permit as young as age 14.  Youngest Son was nowhere near ready for that responsibility when he was 14.  At that age, we were still trying to convince him TV sit-coms and movies were not “real life.”  Back then, he was only recently convinced cartoons were not real.  The boy’s world knowledge was so very limited when we brought him home.  It’s one of those things you’re just not prepared for and just don’t think to expect, but it became our new normal back in 2007.  In fact, we are still finding common knowledge isn’t all that common sometimes for Youngest Son and The Princess.

Our county’s DMV office is a branch office.  Therefore, because Youngest Son was not born in the United States, we need to travel to a state-level DMV.  There are three fairly close by -- about 30 minutes away in different directions.  We are going to the one in the smallest city of those three, hoping we do not to have to wait for hours on end.

He is so nervous.  If you read this post before early afternoon today, will you pray for him?  (And post a comment here that you are, so I can share it with him?)  He’s a smart boy, but he sometimes freezes for tests, even when he knows the material.  I think he can pass.  Man, I hope he passes!  Not passing will not be good, I’m betting, as failure is a major trauma trigger with Youngest Son.

Before we head to the DMV, we have a wrap-around meeting to attend for his therapy and community-based services.  His “graduation” from DBT and other services will be discussed at this meeting and he will be a part of it.  This is the first time I’m allowing him to be included in a wraparound meeting.  I fear I may be setting us up for a hellish evening.  On the other hand, I’m very hopeful for a great day.  He has come so far and is doing so well.

Keep your fingers crossed.