Diagnosis: Over Stimulated Parent

It was the email titled, “Pizza, Pizza!” that just shoved me right over the edge.  The day already felt long.  The weekend had felt that way too.  In fact, every day lately has been a bit of a slog with me feeling ever closer to that “edge” that parents all talk about.

As I sat in preschool car line waiting for The Comedian to come out of school I checked my email and found the ‘pizza’ one from her teacher.  An impromptu field trip, “what fun!”  My brain seized.  All at once I felt angry, defeated and yes, I will admit to a little bit whiney.

It’s just.

I just.

I can’t.

I felt frozen as I searched my swirling, over-crowded brain for what that day might contain on the schedule.  Did we have Occupational therapy or speech that day?  Was it the one day all week that I had a work event or the day we stay home?  Was her carefully planned routine going to be totally destroyed yet again?  Adding another thing to our calendar,  finding another day where I needed a sitter or had to move our schedule around just made me want to melt into a slobbering puddle of tears.  A dynamo I did not feel on a day like today.  Looking at the week where I was on my own again and I just wanted to squeeze my eyes tight, place my hands over my ears and scream.

Except, what good does that do?  What does it show my child sitting in the back seat already struggling to control these very emotions when she can’t always moderate her own temper, body and speech?  Right there is where the problem lies.  And all at once I feel a massive wave of guilt.  The tears well up on the corners of my eyes and I grit my teeth and fists to hold it all back in.  I just want a normal day I think to myself.  I want a day where I don’t have to problem solve her every moment, discern her speech and try to find ways around sticky situations that for other kids are totally mundane and every day.  Lately, those days have been few and far between.  It’s more of knowing the exact routine she needs down to the last button, sock and stuffed animal in place in her bed for nap time.  A nap time that never comes these days.  It is finding the perfect spoon or cup to avert a tantrum or reminding her of each daily task we are doing over and over and over and over again so that we avoid a meltdown right as we step out our front door.  It’s making flash cards that I never have time to make to illustrate how to sit in a grocery cart of go to her sister’s dance class.

Lately it has just been so much harder for me to be the one that keeps it all in line.  To find the time to keep my cool, not cry or just totally lose it on the next person who comes my way or put on a bright face when each kid enters the room or we sit down to dinner.  Every time someone remarks, “I don’t see a problem.” it takes all I have not to snap, “Well you aren’t in the shit every day with her are you?! NO!  YOU AREN’T THE ONE WHO HAS TO MAKE SURE EVERY MOMENT IS SAFE WITH JUST THE RIGHT BALANCE OF INPUT AND OUTPUT TO MODERATE HERSELF AND HAVE THESE TOTALLY NORMAL MOMENTS THAT MANY DAYS ARE FEW AND FAR BETWEEN.”

Did I just scream all that?  I could have screamed so much more. Did I forget that I have two other kids who need me, a husband and house and friends I feel like I’m forgetting because of all this? Have I even remembered to call the doctor on the emergency mammogram I had to have the Friday before Christmas?  Uh, yes to that last one.  No to all the others.

I’m done. My brain is fried.  I’m tired of being told I need to read this, get her to eat that, exclude this from her diet,to buy this toy or book, enroll her in this program or that special play group and be the one who feels totally responsible for this whole entire thing.  I’m tired.  I’m just really tired.