This morning has been one of those mornings that make you want to go back to bed, crawl under your covers and hide from the world for the rest of the day. It started out smoothly enough. Wednesday is my day “off,” and I use that term loosely because while I don’t have to go in to work today, I will spend the day cleaning, doing laundry, grocery shopping, paying bills, and trying futilely to bring some order to my chaotic life. During the summer I do allow myself the luxury on my day “off,” of not waking to an alarm clock. The kids and I usually enjoy having a laid-back morning, one where we don’t have to rush out the door at 7 am. But since I have an ADHD child who thrives on consistency, routine, and structure, my lazy mornings sometimes come at a cost.
So, after 2 (ok, 3) cups of coffee, and catching up on my blog reading, it was time to get moving. I kept P updated on how much time before we had to leave so that he would be ready. Still, he was not ready to go when I was. “I want to stay home and play with my dinosaurs, Momma. I want to stay with you.” Who can blame him, really? I patiently explained that Momma had lots of work to get done, and his job today was to go to daycare. I reminded him that he has fun at daycare and with his friends. He was having none of it. He was a sobbing, snotty heap on the kitchen floor, and he was not going anywhere, thank you very much.
At this point, I start thinking maybe I should just let him stay home. I engage in a sort of back and forth dialogue within my own head. “He’s having a rough morning. He’s feeling insecure for whatever reason.” “You will never get anything done if you let him stay home.” “Maybe he’ll play quietly and let me do my work.” “Ha! Have you met this child?” “Something’s wrong, he needs a day off.” “He needs consistency and structure, something I can’t provide for him at home and get my work done. He will spend the day in front of the TV. What if he pulls this tomorrow when I really have to get to work on time?” Eventually, logic wins out over emotion and I scoop him up and carry him, kicking and screaming to the car. This is no easy feat with a 45 lb four year old who is hell-bent on not getting into the car. I long ago stopped wondering what the neighbors think. …continue reading