Carver brings out my best and my worst.Being his mom has changed the way I mother, for good and bad. I am more understanding of everyone who acts up (adults and children alike) because I know that there is always more going on than you might see on the surface. I'm learning a lot about diagnosis and insurance and code words like IDEA, IEP, 504, SPD, SLP, etc... I also learn on a daily basis how much I don't know and how much more I need to do and be.
Sometimes I play this game in my head. It goes like this: I finish this sentence in different ways, "If I didn't have Carver...." and I try to tell myself that I wouldn't yell so much at my kids because I wouldn't feel all used by him, I'd do more Mommy School with Grace, we'd watch fireworks as a family, I could talk with adults without wondering every second what he's up to, I'd sit with the girls when they get home from school all "Leave-It-To-Beaver," talk about their day, look at their homework and eat a yummy, healthy snack. I wouldn't let my kids watch a movie every day after school (he melts down otherwise) or every time I shower (I've learned my lesson). I'd volunteer to help out at Activity Days and set up for YW nights. The list goes on and on. These things might not even be true. There are likely to be just as many things I do WELL because of him, right? Although those are harder to think of....
Is this healthy? I have no idea. But sometimes it reassures me that I am not a failure in those things that are hard for me and for him. There is a fine line between REASONS and EXCUSES, however, and I don't want to give myself permission to be mediocre when I can rise to the challenge of hard things.
And, of course, I don't want to be without Carver. I'm grateful he's in our family, for his sweetness and sincere desire to help. He can't help it that he's so impulsive and needy sometimes. He finally started telling me that he loves me, too, and it is a beautiful thing. I've needed to hear it for years.
I've wondered before about the different kind of love that I feel for him. The best word is FIERCE. I feel mother-bearish about him, protective, concerned, dedicated in a way that is absolutely exhausting sometimes. I also feel so frustrated and discouraged, which also brings out a fierceness I don't like so well.
I was waiting for his preschool bus yesterday and realized that what I sometimes feel about Carver is what comes in spurts with my other kids. Mostly, I love them in a steady flow but there is a moment that comes where they go out on their own, run onto the soccer field, take a big test at school, suffer through an uncomfortable appointment at the orthodontist and I feel that fierce love for them. I just wear it more often with Carver. It's kinda like adrenalin or something - a little is great, but too much over a period of time can make you crazy.
I hope that my daily frustration with him is balanced by the intensity of my desire to help him. I hope that the worst in me is somehow made up for by the best that shines through from time to time.
Sometimes I play this game in my head. It goes like this: I finish this sentence in different ways, "If I didn't have Carver...." and I try to tell myself that I wouldn't yell so much at my kids because I wouldn't feel all used by him, I'd do more Mommy School with Grace, we'd watch fireworks as a family, I could talk with adults without wondering every second what he's up to, I'd sit with the girls when they get home from school all "Leave-It-To-Beaver," talk about their day, look at their homework and eat a yummy, healthy snack. I wouldn't let my kids watch a movie every day after school (he melts down otherwise) or every time I shower (I've learned my lesson). I'd volunteer to help out at Activity Days and set up for YW nights. The list goes on and on. These things might not even be true. There are likely to be just as many things I do WELL because of him, right? Although those are harder to think of....
Is this healthy? I have no idea. But sometimes it reassures me that I am not a failure in those things that are hard for me and for him. There is a fine line between REASONS and EXCUSES, however, and I don't want to give myself permission to be mediocre when I can rise to the challenge of hard things.
And, of course, I don't want to be without Carver. I'm grateful he's in our family, for his sweetness and sincere desire to help. He can't help it that he's so impulsive and needy sometimes. He finally started telling me that he loves me, too, and it is a beautiful thing. I've needed to hear it for years.
I've wondered before about the different kind of love that I feel for him. The best word is FIERCE. I feel mother-bearish about him, protective, concerned, dedicated in a way that is absolutely exhausting sometimes. I also feel so frustrated and discouraged, which also brings out a fierceness I don't like so well.
I was waiting for his preschool bus yesterday and realized that what I sometimes feel about Carver is what comes in spurts with my other kids. Mostly, I love them in a steady flow but there is a moment that comes where they go out on their own, run onto the soccer field, take a big test at school, suffer through an uncomfortable appointment at the orthodontist and I feel that fierce love for them. I just wear it more often with Carver. It's kinda like adrenalin or something - a little is great, but too much over a period of time can make you crazy.
I hope that my daily frustration with him is balanced by the intensity of my desire to help him. I hope that the worst in me is somehow made up for by the best that shines through from time to time.
