Wishy Washy Momma

I just took a screaming child to school, gently detached his desperately clinging little body from mine as his kind and caring teacher took him from me cooing to him gently that he would be ok . . . oh, how my heart breaks. So awful. Did I do the right thing?

See, as a parent I never know if I've done the right thing. When I taught 1st grade in my pre-parent days, I had the vision, this expectation, for how my children would behave, what a "good" mom I'd be, and how our family life would look like from the outside. Blech. What pressure! There is a book out there called "I Was a Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids," and truly, I think it is the absolute truth! I was going to be all of these things that I really am not.

Knowing what to do was one of those great things at which I was going to be quite skilled. Hahahahahahahahaha (I just fell off of my chair I'm laughing so hard - ok, well, maybe not laughing right now, but I should be!). Truly, I am the worst at knowing what to do, especially if I haven't had time to prepare a game plan ahead of time. I'm wishy-washy (no, NOT Mrs. Wishy-Washy), non-commital, and unsure a lot of the time - qualities I do not find endearing, or helpful for that matter.

And, oh, how I struggle with not knowing what to do. Helpless, is the best description that comes to mind, and utter despair in the face of helplessness . . . Once again, not only is this yet another place in which being a parent has magnified my shortcomings to proportions equal to my name in lights on Broadway or plastered on the Megatron in Times Square, but it has also pointed out that I have given in to being a passenger to my life at times. Time to take the driver's seat, Missy!

Yet, as I state this, I still wonder . . . this is the stuff no one ever pointed out b-e-f-o-r-e I had kids or even when I was pregnant. It is like an unwritten pact not to scare off the Mommy Prospects by saying such irritating and quite understated statements such as "be sure you're getting lots of sleep now!" (when pg), or "is he a good baby?" (when baby is 3 weeks and you're sleep deprived worse than jet-lag after a 2 week around the world flight).

No one tells you about the guilt over the big and the little; the constant unsure state in which you will learn to survive; the ache and/or longing in your heart when your kids are not near even though you couldn't *wait* to get out of the house alone; the constant questioning of yourself; how completely inept, unskilled, and illprepared you will feel;and the never-ending re-evaluation of how things were supposed to go.

Perhaps it is this way for most Moms. I can only imagine that it must be no matter the number of children. For me, these feelings are even more magnified by Autism, and the fact that Connor can be more rigid (although to his credit, usually much more relaxed than many kiddos on the spectrum), more anxious and unsure of new and different, and not as able to communicate his feelings to me as say, Gavin. Not that his feelings weren't communicated today . . . he did nOt want to go to school - that was clear.

So here I sit, still not sure if my decision to take him to school late today was the right way to go. I tried to set him up for success by foreshadowing what was going to happen (don't you like my fancy term in reference to a behavior- learned it at my parenting class *pats self on back for retaining something*), but didn't have much success . . .

Mommy: "we're going to have lunch, and then Mommy is going to drive you to school today becasue we're running late so Miss Vicki already drove the kids to school on the bus".

Connor: "No thank you," as he covers his face with his hands and his eyes fill with tears.

Mommy: "Buddy, it will be ok. Mommy will take you into your class and then Miss Michelle (bus driver) will drive you home! We love Miss Michelle."

Connor: still covering face with hands, but letting a little smile slip at the mention of Miss Michelle - "No thank you."

I can sense the anxiety at the fact our day is utterly different, even after my best attempts to prepare him for the fact our day was going to be different, and I don't know how to squelch it for him so that our day can continue on smoothly. It is a busy day which isn't following our typical schedule by a long shot -

1. ABA with Jennifer from 10 - noon (usually on Friday afternoons)



2. lunch in the car at 12:15 (usually at 11:30 at home)



3. late to school at 1:00, driven by Mom and an overly eager Gavin (usually Miss Vicki picks him up on the bus at 11:55ish)



4. home on the bus as normal at 3:00



5. back in the car at 4:00 to head to speech



6. Speech with Kim from 5:00 - 6:00 (usually on Tuesday mornings)
   
   

It's all wrong, and I get it. I debated for days whether to take him late to school or just to keep him home. I reasoned he could benefit from the 2 hours of school he would receive instead of just hanging out at home, and Gavin could get a nap in so as to be fairly agreeable this afternoon/evening as we fight traffic and hang out in the car for even longer than our already logged 3 hours. If I was sure Connor would've napped, as I'm pretty sure he could use one, I would've changed my mind, but . . . I don't know.

Here is what I do know: I know it sucked taking him to school crying, actually screaming. It sucked wondering what the staff was thinking about me depositing a devasted child into their formerly quiet, orderly classroom - were they criticizing my decision thinking instead I should have just kept him home? It sucks, that is all there is to it, and who knows what the right thing was for today. I guess I'll only know when his smiling, tired little body bounds off the bus in an hour. While I worry about how the rest of our afternoon, evening, and night time will go after such a loop in his routine, I also know that in a few days this will be long forgotten in the face of a new quandry, new struggle, and a fresh start.