I. Am. Exhausted. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, exhausted. However, tonight I am also triumphant. Let me explain. As I write this I am watching Cameron “do his homework” while Amelia is babysat by the TV and dinner is waiting to be made. I set Cameron up with a yoga ball to sit on while he does his homework, I brought home some “Reading Helpers” which look like a ruler with a colored, transparent line to use while reading to help with tracking, and I cleared the area of distractions. Now, let’s revisit that “do his homework” thing. At this very moment, he’s actually under the table, lying with his stomach on the ball, using it to reach for a paper that fell on the floor. The paper that fell on the floor fell because he was bouncing on the ball instead of sitting on it. Now he’s switched to lying on his back on the ball while rocking and staring at the ceiling. If you could hear through this post, you’d be listening to this odd high-pitched noise he randomly makes—kind of like when you stretch and make that noise that comes out of your throat because your mouth is closed. He makes those sounds while he eats, takes a bath, reads, writes… pretty much whenever he isn’t talking. I just said to Cameron, “I don’t think that ball’s helping you.” He said, “Yeah it is.” Now he’s kneeling on it, bouncing, and writing. This should really help with his handwriting issues. Or at least it will help with his core muscles.
Now he’s making an even higher-pitched noise and I’m trying not to let him see me laugh. I laugh because if I didn’t find ways to laugh, I would cry. A lot. Now he’s panting, talking in that weird high-pitched voice, and adding some more weird sounds. But he’s content. I’m not sitting next to him to coax him to write every letter of every word. He’s not arguing with me, or even Amelia. It’s a precious moment of peace that I am so thankful for. Now he’s banging his chin on his wrist while it sits on the table, making his teeth snap together like an alligator’s. So, yeah, he may have some sensory issues. Oh, and now I’m fortunate enough to be listening to his ever-so-popular mouth-fart noises.
But, guess what? He just finished his homework! No tears. We had a couple of close calls when I made him fix his mistakes, but I had warned him that I’d correct his work, and it seemed to help. Yes, there was a bunch of fidgeting on the ball, but I am willing to accept the fidgeting, noises, and chicken scratch for a finished assignment in less than an hour.
How did I do it, you ask? Well, not only can this mom throw impromptu dance parties in the living room, help with intricate Lego building, read with funny voices, and make Halloween costumes out of nearly anything in the house; that’s right, for my next trick, I will predict the mood and melt-downs of the SPD monster inside of my child and avoid them with pre-planning. Yes, I beat him to the punch today. I had him start his homework right away after his snack, before his exhaustion set in. I made it sound exciting that I had a new “tool” for him to use while doing today’s homework assignments. He got the ball ready to use before he even started his homework. When he said he was almost done, I excitedly said, “Great! Then I’ll check it, you can fix your mistakes, and then you’ll be all done!” and he didn’t seem to notice that meant he had more time left than he’d thought. I also got rid of his biggest distraction, Amelia, by placing her in front of the TV, which is in a different room. And I didn’t even sit at the table, cook, or anything except sit in the chair within his line of vision and type this.
Why can’t I beat him to the punch every day? Because I’m exhausted. I work full-time with kids who have special needs, which puts into perspective how lucky I am to have a son with SPD instead of the plethora of other things that can happen to children. However, by the time I get home, I’ve given so much to my students, and then I’m expected–no required (in a good way)– to give even more to my own children because my motto is “I will not put my students before my children.” But it’s really, really hard. It’s hard to be “on” at work and at home. It’s hard to bring all of my strategies, tricks, and especially my patience home with me. I’m not feeling sorry for myself, but I’m giving myself permission to be tired. I’m tired just from watching Cameron do his homework, but I think I’m even more tired from the tactics I had to employ in order to make it go smoothly.
With that said, dinner can wait no longer. Lucky for me, I am also giving myself permission to make frozen pizza.
Not Just a Boy 