Good-Enough or Just Plain Awful?

Shimmering Saturday

Today, the line separating myself from good-enough mom and an awful mom is only a slender, hair-like fiber.  It's not even three p.m. and I've yelled at my son several times.  Earlier this morning, we started the day like we start most days.  I remind him of what needs to be done as part of his morning routine.  He says, "Ok" and then does nothing.  We play this ritual out almost every morning.  This morning, I was very tired of the sound of my own nagging.  What I'm doing isn't working and I'm not too happy with myself.  After all, I've got a lot of years, water under the bridge and "the turbo witch" advantage on my side.  I should be able to outfox an 11-year-old boy.

Unfortunately, the better mom in me must be "out of the building".  After he finally dresses, (I don't think I ever got him to brush his teeth.) he tells me he has to run down to the culdesac.  He left his wallet there yesterday.  This news was like gasoline on the simmering fires of frustration.  Inside, I'm panicking.  How am I going to prepare this kid for the real world?  His survival skills stink.  His coping skills aren't any better and his inability to focus on the hundreds of important details that fill each day is driving his parents more than a little crazy.

I haven't given up the struggle without a fight.  I've done charts, picture charts, social stories, flash cards, laminated lists, prayer and occasional cussing under my breath.  The chaos in his bedroom alone makes me want to race to the local tavern for happy hour where I hang out all evening.  Well, a girl can dream can't she?  Walking on a layer of Legos, assorted DVD's, clothing and God-knows-what sends nightmarish shivers up and down my spine.

I've labeled drawers, containers, bins.  I'm made charts of where things go.  I've provided incentive in the form of good-choice quarters.   I've made compliance and cooperation a necessary component in earning the right to play video games or go to some desired place.  Despite all these "good mom" strategies, despite all I know about child psychology (mostly from personal experience) when he told me he left his wallet out all night, the words that fall out of my mouth are:
"A. . .that's probably one of the stupidest things you've done in a long time."
Lines like that won't earn me any parenting excellence prizes.  His face falls.  He looks at me and with a quavering voice says, "I don't know why you have to be so mean?"

He has nailed it.  I was pretty mean.  Now, in my defense, my calm and cool exterior had taken a beating.  This mornings nag fest really did some damage.  I started thinking about the last time I had a real break.  I thought about how difficult it can be to raise a "special needs kid."  He is definitely special needs no matter how often I try to pretend otherwise.   For over 15 years, my husband and I have never had more than several hours to ourselves.  Now, with money absent from our lives, we couldn't afford to go any where any way.  But again, I can dream can't I?

The Good-Enough mom loves her children for who they are.  I wouldn't trade my quirky boy for a handful of "normal" ones but there are days when "it hits the fan" and I have very little "good-enough" mom left in me.  When the storm passed, I stepped up to do some damage control.  I apologized for being mean and told him what really motivated my words.  I am afraid.  I'm afraid I'm not doing a good job preparing him for the real world.  I'm afraid that it will be hard for him to take care of himself without someone like me constantly watching out for him.  I'm frustrated that I haven't been able to figure out a good way to really help him. 

I kept the biggest fear to myself.  I'm afraid that his "specialness" will get in the way of his leading as normal a life as possible.  All this fear, all this frustration came out as anger.  He was the unfortunate target.  As soon as the words, came out I knew they were not helpful.  I knew they could do some damage.  I hated my own faults more than I hated those I spent all morning battling in my son.

When we finally got assembled and took off to do errands, I enacted the "do-over plan".  When we'd get off to a bad start when the kids were young, I'd pick a moment and announce that "we're starting over.  We are leaving the bad moods and morning unpleasantness behind and we're going to begin again."  Sometimes, it worked wonders.  Today, it was the attempt that was most important.  Things are still a little rocky.  Some days are just like that.  Today, my dark side had me saying the wrong thing while the good side did her best to acknowledge my error, apologize and try again.  I guess I'm not as awful as I feel.