Victory?

Diminutive One came home from school about 30 minutues ago. I was anxiously awaiting him, but tried to appear nonchalant. I didn't ask him how his day went, I simply greeted him and asked him what he wanted for snack.

As he munched, he looked at me thoughtfully and said, "You know. I had a pretty good day today. I think the medicine helped. I didn't get in trouble ONCE. AND...I got an A on my spelling pretest."

Maybe the medicine just gave him some confidence. Maybe, that little white pill just made him THINK he could do better. And maybe, it really did. Frankly, I don't care which is true.

I felt like crying, but I held it together. I told him how happy I was, of course, and glad that he felt like it was working.

Then he said, "Mom, I really think I am a kinisthetic learner. (he is) But maybe a little bit of auditory too. But definitely kinisthetic the most."

Now, earlier in the week at his doctor's appointment, she had suggested we have him tested for learning style. This is in the works, but insurance is balking at paying for it and the place we want to take him, a center that specializes in his type of disorders, is not cheap. So it hasn't happened yet. Though we know his learning style, these types of evaluations can often uncover one of the multitude of co-morbid conditions that are typical to ADD, such as processing disorders and mood disorders such as depression or anxiety. We discussed it in depth, but she never said the word kinisthetic.

I gaped at him and said "Where in the hell did you hear that word?"

He looked a little insulted and said, "Mom. Guidance comes to our class every Monday and talks about character and stuff. Today she talked about learning style."

He said this as if my astonishment was entirely unwarranted. But it wasn't. Because he was listening. The fact that he followed the lesson was far more astounding than his use and understanding of the word.

He settled in at the kitchen table to do his homework and I noticed, with a sort of surreal feeling, that he was sitting. Normally, he stands to do his homework. He stands and taps. Bangs. Hums. Twirls. Flaps. Flutters. I know that those self stimulating behaviors serve to keep him focused so I've been trying to quell the impulse to implore him to stop. But today I didn't have to. He was doing none of that. And his homework was done in 15 mintues with no tantrums, no protests, no tears.

Now I feel like a real putz for waiting so long.

This is my achilles heel. I overthink things. I ponder. I ruminate. I research. I pro and con it to death.

A lot of the time, this serves me well. But sometimes....sometimes it results in a child that could have started the year off on the right foot if his mother hadn't been such a pussy about a teensy weensy little pill.

This motherhood gig...what made me think I'd be good at it? Well, of course, I assumed I would have a "normal" child. I was good at the baby stuff. I know some have a really tough time with that. But I had the baby knack. I'm not sure I have the instincts necessary to guide a troubled child through life.

But then...I don't really have a choice do I? Maybe I'll pass the next test of my mothering mettle more expiditiously.