Side of Patience, Please

Gretchen has pushed back. If you have been following my Facebook page you’ve seen that I have given right back to her.

She yells, whines, and cries and then carries on even when you tell her to stop. Time outs aren’t working (but she’s getting better — even put herself in time out last week for talking rude in the car).

She is trying my patience.

I’ve said this before and it’s true: when Theodore has a meltdown we are prepared almost in every way to help him come out if, from use of a soft helmet to Code Black turn on the Beastie Boys DVD five minutes ago!!!

When our two NT (neurotypical) kids have a meltdown we look at them as if to say, “what’s with you? Get over it.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, everyone can have a bad day. And, sure, you yell and let off steam. I get it. What I don’t get it carrying on the point where you scream yourself into a sore throat or you get so worked up you can’t even listen to what anyone says to you.

And, even when I try to walk away, Gretchen just keeps on going. Like the Energizer Bunny….

But something she told my mother, when she thought I wasn’t listening, leads me to believe that she is carrying on like this because at recess she plays on the swings or plays by herself.

So, there is some reasoning (I think), behind her becoming a house devil. She is lonely at recess. She holds it together all day long. She unleashes it when she gets home. And usually I am her target. Lucky me.

I am trying to encourage her to play at recess. Another girl named Tanya likes to swing with Gretchen so I told her she should ask her questions and talk to her. Today when I optimistically asked if she talked to Tanya, my hopes got crushed…

“No. Some kid tripped me so I didn’t play.”

Wait, what? Was it on purpose? What happened?

“I wasn’t bleeding so nothing happened.”

(Me, searching for the right words.) OK, well, who tripped you?

“I don’t know his name.”

Did he do it on purpose?

“No.”

And before I can get her to say anything else…boom… the two girls are fighting in the backseat of my van over a teeny tiny stuffed dog that Olena got from the book fair.

The fighting continued the whole ride from daycare to the Oneida Area YMCA. To which I said:

“THAT’S IT. I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT. NOT NOW, NOT WHEN WE ARE TRAVELING. YOU HAVE A HOUSE OF STUFFED ANIMALS! WHY MUST YOU FIGHT OVER THIS ONE?!”

Patience. Patience. Oh patience. I miss you.

Someday, it may return.

When I’m on the beach somewhere… unreachable… with my toes in the sand.

Until next time.

 

 

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