I eat fast. Really fast. My mother once asked me if I had perhaps starved in a past life. Sometimes, I don’t think I even taste my food.
My child can take an hour to eat a scoop of ice cream. The words “Hurry up” bring her instantly to tears. She has always moved to the beat of her own drum.
She has been struggling, a bit, with math. It’s too fast for her. And knowing she is being timed just makes it worse. She has always had performance anxiety, which is sad to watch (from where I’m sitting). She’s such a talented singer and artist. But the thought of anyone “watching” her makes her insane. The thought of “messing up” and knowing that people witnessed it is too much for her to handle. I know this is a required step in child development, but it’s a little more than that.
Of course I blame myself for her falling behind a bit in math. It’s not my strong suit. And, by the time I get home I’m hurrying to make dinner, hurrying her to do her homework, hurrying her to bathe, and get ready for bed. I’m not helping. And there isn’t much time for anything else.
Today, she brought home a piece of paper from school. I asked, “When did you do this?” She said, “We had free time during reading.”
Remember…beat of her own drum. The math will come.
Parenting is, hands down, the most interesting thing I’ve ever done.
I pretty much spend every day trying not to dumb my child down to my level.
Look when she’s talking to you.
Don’t assume you know what she’s trying to say.
Believe her when she sees something.
Make things interesting.
Learn something new.
I don’t know what I would do without this child in my life.
Before she was here, I could go to the bookstore and hang-out until they turned the lights off and politely told me to “Get the hell out.”
I could wake up when I wanted, go to brunch (or not), eat chips and salsa for dinner (okay…that never really changed).
What I am trying to say is, I didn’t have to come home. No one was waiting for me anywhere. I didn’t feel guilty because I wasn’t home making someone’s dinner.
I wasn’t going to be punished for neglecting anyone.
I didn’t punish myself for doing nothing special, or doing too much.
I could go where I wanted, when I wanted, and stay as long as I wanted.
I didn’t have to hear anyone complain about how bored they are.
I didn’t have to limit my time because someone else wasn’t enjoying the moment.
Now, every single thought revolves around this child and what makes her life meaningful.
I don’t eat, sleep, or think without her face in my mind.
“How can I make our lives mean something?”
“What can I do to make sure she will remember me, always?”
“Is she happy?”
The holidays have passed and I didn’t take the time to blog.
Not since September.
I would like to think it’s because we were too busy having fun.
But, in all honesty, I didn’t feel like I had anything worthy of writing.
So, that will change.
I’ve set many goals for myself for the remainder of 2015.
Most of them revolve around remembering what makes me happy.
And we all know…when momma ain’t happy, nobody’s happy.
The rest have to do with my lovely child.
Don’t be so hard on her; she’s hard enough on herself.
Remember that I know who she is; who she has always been.
And most of all, look forward to the unknown.