Today I'm feeling kind of restless. Discontent, I guess. P spent Saturday at a chess tournament and it went badly. So badly. One of the adults told me that he was "making kind of a scene" on the tournament floor with every loss. It kills me that he likes the game but then his anxiety and lack of emotional control just get him.
I forget how many sessions we've had with the psychologist. I think we're about halfway through what she anticipated. He's made some improvements, but the big blowups continue as they always have. I fear that as he ages there will be fewer activities and fewer relationships where he'll be welcome.
I'm feeling sad for myself tonight as well. I feel so sad that I flinch whenever someone asks me, "Are you P's mom?" because I know criticism will follow. I feel sad that my friends don't know what this feels like, and can't identify with it at all. I feel sad that when we were walking into the chess tournament I was doing deep breathing to keep from passing out from panic, and I know that my own anxiety keeps me from being the mom that my kids need. I regret the times I've shouted at them to just get into their bedroom mid-meltdown because I simply can't take it. I dread the idea of going back to therapy because it feels like failure, but I'm equally afraid to keep going on without it.
Work has been horrendous lately, but I guess that's good because tomorrow I'll be too busy to think about all of this.
To add to the parenting fails this weekend, E broke her glasses and not only did I not buy the full-replacement protection plan for them, I also don't have a backup pair. And the backup pair I ordered won't be here for another two weeks. Sorry, E, I guess you'll have to squint to see for the next 14 days or so. And little C is more enamored with farts than any four-year-old girl should be.
My house is a mess. My Christmas crafting isn't done. The homemade candy I was going to make for the kids' teachers may become store-bought. And P has a field trip on Wednesday that I'm just dreading...I'll be crossing my fingers for no texts from his teacher. She's a wonderful teacher, but gives me a play-by-play of his biggest meltdowns. I don't know if she's looking for suggestions or just moral support, but I try to provide whatever they both need to get them through. I kind of wish I had that option.
One more week and I'll have all three of my kids with me for winter break. It will be a relief not to worry about how they're faring in the outside world.