1:46 p.m. - 2008-03-03
speaking of my adorable children....
Friday was a half day for FirstBorn, so the afternoon was full of errands, paperwork completion, paperwork delivery, wards of the state delivery, and the initial meeting with the Liscenced Clinical Social Worker. We like the LCSW--she seems reasonable and not too condescending. She also got to meet us when we were well rested, fed, and most ourselves. And she likes FirstBorn--she declared him very mature. This, of course, is because FirstBorn walked into the office a minute or so before I got inside. Where most children would wait and walk in with their mother, FirstBorn does not. He doesn’t even come in and wait in the lobby for Mom to catch up & take over. No, FirstBorn went straight to the counter and gave his name and appointment time--with energy. Which *is* pretty mature, upon reflection.
Of course, dealing with the whole self-esteem/anxiety/see history repeat itself only more so issue stresses me out incredibly. Because he is “so much like his mother.” Add to that the fact that my body seems intent on making up for the 12 years of hormonal regulation and menstruation cessation via birth control and gestation.... Can we say "Peggey is emotional?"
Saturday morning involved a long talk with NMH. There were hormonally induced tears involved. I'm sure one could also blame the situation, but I prefer to blame the hormones. One would think that 20 years of friendship means one doesn't have to explain how one's brain works to a person. Alas, not true. Luckily, we live in the computer age. Explaining that living in my head is like surfing the net without any pop-up filters while having half a dozen other programs open in the background (with competing soundtracks) all the time with no way to turn it off seemed to make sense to him. At least it look like something clicked. Nice to know that we can now explain Attention Deficit to the unafflicted with easy analogies.
Unfortunately, the "why" regarding my stress doesn't compute for NMH. You see, I’m stressed that we’ve waited to long to start the whole medication/therapy/school change process. That “maternal guilt” thing, which is just exacerbated by my ability to predict what people would say. Minor players like FirstBorn’s teachers and my Mother-In-Law. Nothing like hearing voices in your head…. He doesn’t hear voices in his head, so he didn’t understand that affliction until I explained it, too.
NMH still didn’t get why I was bothered. Which caused me to launch into another totally different tirade. Nothing like telling a quality engineer (someone who lives to figure out why things don't work the way they should so that one can fix it) that he's not going to get the "why" and to stop trying. I don't get why he deems my stuff "clutter." I just know that "clutter" makes his neck hurt. So I endeavor to deal with my stuff so that it doesn't "clutter" the house. Which stresses me out, because I can't see it as clutter, but I try (dammit). The tirade boiled down to "you don't have to understand, you just have to try to work with it as best you can. I will give you guidelines--no "girl" crap here--but you have to just accept it and do the best you can." Which, admittedly, felt good. So I’m competitive & passive-aggressive sometimes. Could be worse—at least I know I have those flaws.
Luckily, the children did not burn down, flood, or deconstruct the upper floor of the house while we were having our little chat. No one was dead or duct taped to a bed frame either. Nor was Screaming Harlot naked and climbing my bedpost.* Always a plus....
NMH is hoping the naked-swinging-on-the-bedpost combined with the dancing is just a phase Screaming Harlot is going through. He's uncomfortable with the thought of those being the only talents our daughter might have. He wants to be an encouraging father, but encouraging one's little girl in dancing, disrobing, and pole climbing.... I have no problems, as such a profession is typically temporary and a source of *excellent* income. So long as she makes wise investment choices, I'm all for it. ;-) Summers at the shore, winters interning for investment managers...hmmm. A plan begins to form....
FirstBorn's talents are more in the area of spacial relations. He's gifted in the art of taking things apart and putting things together. He doesn't even need the short words--just diagrams. He built most of the kit furniture we have in the wreck room sans parental assistance. He also figured out how to use his IKEA tool kit to take apart his doorknob. And reinstall it. The boy is good. And his Lego spaceships are unsurpassed by anyone on the block.
Nonetheless, I hope FirstBorn can become an architect or structural engineer. Because the idea of introducing *my son the auto mechanic* and *my daughter the stripper* just makes me want to go out and buy a trailer park and a really nice double wide to go in it....
