Posts tagged ‘tired’

The well is running dry

     This move has not been an easy one. Numerous reasons come to mind; all of them too mundane and detailed to bother with here. But suffice it to say we are all more than just a little homesick for lands west of the Mississippi. We’ve lived in seven cities in almost fourteen years, and while I usually enjoy starting over, I’m over it now. Still, there are great positives, and we know that. I expect in a few short months, we’ll settle in and start to love it. And if not, we’ll suffer through it for a few years until we feel like we can head back to the frontier.

     Husband and I aren’t spring chickens anymore, and my own health, while far more stable than it was a year ago (see here), is still presenting challenges. Basically, I’m tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. I keep wondering when life with C will get easier – and there are a great many things with him that are, in fact, easy – but the continuing challenges have taken their toll. I fully recognize that by the time I am done redirecting, correcting, motivating, corralling (is that even a word?), herding, guiding, planning, figuring, and, let us face it downright nagging, there is little left of me to be fun Mom. I tell myself perhaps I expect too much of C, but when I’m spent just getting him out of bed and out the door in the morning, there’s a problem.

     On one hand, this delightful child of mine is driving me downright Bat.Poop.Crazy. at the moment, and on the other hand, my tolerance level is low. Very low. Extremely low. You all know me; I don’t complain about my kid. I know raising a child, any child, is difficult. And I know raising a child like mine is beyond difficult, but I’m not a parent who feels short-changed with the child I was given. I feel lucky to have him, blessed to be entrusted with him, and generally feel slightly sorry for parents with typical children because I imagine it must be somewhat boring. Yet at the moment, I’m just spent, and I’m not really sure how to re-engage.

     I’m annoyed before I even get C up, because for the first time in his life I actually have to wake him in order to get to school on time, and he is not fun to rouse. I devised a routine where I take Dog into C’s room, plop him on top of C and let Dog lick C awake. Dog is old, really old, and I wonder how long he will be with us. What then? I wonder. And then I get annoyed because C can’t just get up like any other kid. No, I have to get him up happy, or the day is shot. And then this annoys me – all the hoops I have to jump through just to make things happen for C.

     Yes, I am a control freak. This I know. But having the child I have has furthered that trait to an obsession of which I am not proud. Yes, I do things to accommodate my child not only for his happiness, but for my own as well. If he’s happy, I’m happy. When he’s not happy, everyone pays, and pays dearly. And that payment is just not worth it to me anymore; I have no well left from which to draw.

     It’s a slippery slope here. This I know. But I just can’t seem to get any traction.

February 8, 2011 at 5:22 am 7 comments

Sleepy head

     The word “tired” is one I’d like to remove from my vocabulary, and one by which I judge myself – harshly – quite frequently. I’ve been tired for 20 years, which is neither here nor there, and despite many docs’ unsuccessful attempts to sort through tired for me, no one has every hit a satisfactory reason. Most days, I wish I did, or could, drink coffee, despite sickening at the very smell of it.

     My constant state of tired makes me view parents of multiple children with an admiration bordering on fervor. How do they DO it? I marvel as I watch a Mom with a brood of little ones following after her in the grocery store. I admit to vacillating between thoughts of a friend’s insanity or perhaps her sainthood when she adopted a 5th child who has severe bipolar disorder, fetal alcohol syndrome and autism. Another family I know adopted 6 children, all with varying degrees of autism, and Mum homeschools them all. Both thankful for wonderful families like theirs and at the same time curious about what makes them tick, I’ve often compared my own unlikely sainthood to this high standard and have naturally found myself lacking.

     Yet there are moments when I pat myself on the back for recognizing that we needed to stop at one, because we both wanted to and for the fact that we were both a little older (you’re welcome, Husband, for my not pointing out just how older we are, and just how much older than I are you) when we started our happy little family. While we like to think that a little bit of age made us wiser and smarter parents (it did), I, for one, have come to understand why our bodies are built to have babies when we are 17.

January 13, 2010 at 9:48 am 4 comments

It’s all autism, all the time.

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