My husband's been in charge of bedtime for our son for I really don't know how long. A long time. I do some bits, but he's the main handler of the bedtime hour. This is a lot because of the ADD. I try to help, and oftentimes even manage to do a good portion of it, but in the end, at the crucial points, I'm so absorbed (ohai, hyperfocus) in something written, or something I'm writing, that I can't pull myself out enough to assist.
I used to sing my son to sleep nearly every night. When he was a baby, I sang to him every night without fail. After he got to be a toddler, I skipped a night every so often, instead allowing his dad to read to him until lights-out, after which I'd go in for a quick kiss and hug, but wouldn't sing. In the last year, we began playing pre-recorded lullabies, and I no longer sang. I've done it, oh, maybe a handful of times since.
Lying next to him this evening, after his bedtime routine was complete, after the lights were out, I considered the loss of it, of singing, of how tragically inept I am with regards to consistent behaviors involving - well, everything. I thought it would be different with my kid, but it isn't, really. I get just as whip-tired, just as worn-down by the monotony of repetition involving him as with all other things I've ever done. The book-reading, the arts & crafts projects, the puzzles, the singing, the instruction on all necessary things, it all eventually - sickens me. And I don't confess to this lightly. This is so very difficult to admit to. Nothing has ever left me feeling more guilty, more brimming with shame, than the tacit acknowledgment of my inability to consistently maneuver through routines that are necessary, obligatory, important for the healthy growth of my son, my offspring. And I love him - dearly. Beyond all else. More than I could love another living thing.
I'd rather not go further into exploration of this topic now, as it hurts to note it. I - get tired. No. I get bored with my own kid. I don't just mean, oh, kid-projects are boring. I mean that I become bored with him.
I'm so sad it's making me cry. Not the aim I had when I sat down to pen this essay.
What makes you frustrated as an ADHD parent? What are your stumbling blocks? Please tell me a story where you get stuck. Please make me feel like a slightly less-monstrous mommy. Show me I'm not alone in this. Please.
(And thank you, in advance.)
After school KILLs me. It feels like I am just marking time until dinner which (coincidentally? I think not) accompanies the ceremonial uncorking of the wine bottle. But anyway. I just cannot focus on anything the kids want to do or get up the energy/attention to organize an activity. I usually put on Scooby Doo and tuck one under each arm and zone out, hoping I'll be a better mom the next time. I never am.
Posted by: Feral Mom | 03/26/2010 at 04:06 AM