The storm
I am walking through a storm, one that touched down in my living room. We have all gone our own way this week - four times the travel debris. There are piles of laundry, shoes (do we own this many shoes?), papers to be signed and bills to pay. Oh, and I guess the kids will need to eat today so I will be off to buy groceries too, but first, to the computer to post. I have my priorities.
Lexi spoke at both church services yesterday, extolling the ways I remind her of God. You heard me right. She had to ponder long and hard too. I found it hard to coach her through this - I at once felt inadequate and exasperated. (What do you mean you can't think of anything?)
I am proud of Lexi often; it's not tough. But I am astounded when my daughter exudes this newfound confidence. Not too long ago and she was frantic, nervous, shy. Now she doesn't hesitate to take the stage; she climbs large horses and rides off like she has been doing it on the sly.
It gives me hope when Zack's teacher and bus driver told me Thursday that Zack has been crying in the afternoon, when the buses come. He is worried Lexi will miss the bus and become lost. I've applied all the logic I can muster and walked him through all the 'what ifs', something I do when I start to flesh out catastrophe. It isn't helping. We've worked a plan to get through the next month at school, one that includes Lexi walking him to the bus. But the panic lives on. Now Zack spends his free time planning my day, reminding me when he goes to school, when he gets home. He's a living blackberry, a talking day planner. This is boy who loves structure; anxiety makes him crave some control. It makes me crazy. It's like living with Rainman.
Rainman gets old.
Rainman makes me holler.
Rainman brings out the stuff your kid doesn't say on stage, at church.
Rainman, frankly, makes me tired and scared because there isn't much I can do to fix it.
We have to ride it out.
My Mom would tell you she had to help me get to sleep at night with guided imagery; that I worried about hell, kids at school, ugly stuffed animals no one would buy. Lexi was a Rainwoman too. And hopefully, Zack will find a way to sooth himself, a way to cope with his sensitive soul.
I'll try not to worry. Too much.
Technorati tags: anxiety panic worry Rainman motherhood
Lexi spoke at both church services yesterday, extolling the ways I remind her of God. You heard me right. She had to ponder long and hard too. I found it hard to coach her through this - I at once felt inadequate and exasperated. (What do you mean you can't think of anything?)
I am proud of Lexi often; it's not tough. But I am astounded when my daughter exudes this newfound confidence. Not too long ago and she was frantic, nervous, shy. Now she doesn't hesitate to take the stage; she climbs large horses and rides off like she has been doing it on the sly.
It gives me hope when Zack's teacher and bus driver told me Thursday that Zack has been crying in the afternoon, when the buses come. He is worried Lexi will miss the bus and become lost. I've applied all the logic I can muster and walked him through all the 'what ifs', something I do when I start to flesh out catastrophe. It isn't helping. We've worked a plan to get through the next month at school, one that includes Lexi walking him to the bus. But the panic lives on. Now Zack spends his free time planning my day, reminding me when he goes to school, when he gets home. He's a living blackberry, a talking day planner. This is boy who loves structure; anxiety makes him crave some control. It makes me crazy. It's like living with Rainman.
Rainman gets old.
Rainman makes me holler.
Rainman brings out the stuff your kid doesn't say on stage, at church.
Rainman, frankly, makes me tired and scared because there isn't much I can do to fix it.
We have to ride it out.
My Mom would tell you she had to help me get to sleep at night with guided imagery; that I worried about hell, kids at school, ugly stuffed animals no one would buy. Lexi was a Rainwoman too. And hopefully, Zack will find a way to sooth himself, a way to cope with his sensitive soul.
I'll try not to worry. Too much.
Technorati tags: anxiety panic worry Rainman motherhood
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Love,
T