Friday, September 7, 2012

The Road to Recovery

I am finally getting over my illness.
I am not talking about the third week of school nastiness that the boys always bring home, this year appearing in the form of a fever/cough/cold combination that wipes you out for a couple of days.  I am still battling the tail end of that one.
Instead, I am happy to report that I have FINALLY recovered from what I will refer to as DDD, or diarrheal dialogue disorder.  I have not yet sought professional help for my disorder, which often goes undetected.  It was David who made me realize that I was suffering in the first place.
Strike that.  Actually, I felt fine and it was David who was suffering.
When David gets nervous as he was the first two weeks of school, he gets very quiet.
Apparently, I have the opposite problem.
All my maternal, protective instincts these first weeks of school have come spilling, pouring, tumbling out in the form of reassurances, questions, and then answers and then more questions about David's day as we wait each morning for the bus.
You are going to have a great day at school today.  Do you know what specials you have today?  You must not have PE because you had PE yesterday.  Could it be library day today? Is it check-out day?  Who do you sit next to in the lunch room? Doyoulikeridingthebus?Yourbusdriverisnice,isn'the?OhlookIseeabutterflydoyouseethebutterflytoowhatdoyouwanttodowhenyougethomefromschooldontforgettogiveyournotebookbacktotheteacher.

Keep in mind that not too long ago, David was a non-verbal child.  I wasn't even really expecting him to answer any of questions; I simply felt better having asked them.

But, I did not consider how my verbal assault was making David feel.

And David, poor David actually has that talent that so many of us grown people lack--the ability to be still.  He wanted to be still, to be quiet and just sit.

Unlike me, David does not always feel it necessary to fill time--talking, or reading, or checking e-mail and Facebook while sipping a cup of coffee or all of the above at the same time.  He was perfectly happy to wait and maybe listen to the bird in the oak tree in the front yard, but then there is this woman (yours truly) who simply would not shut up.

Toward the end of the first week of school, we were waiting for the bus.  I was standing at the screen door, and David was sitting on the staircase, head down.  And then, without lifting his head from the carpet of the stairs, his raised his eyes to meet mine, lifted his right hand, palm out and said to me in a barely audible whisper, "stop talking Mom-mom.”

I guess the first step is recognizing that you have a problem.


  1. Many years ago I was in a group therapy session for some months. One of the exercises the therapist used was pairing off mismatched people: i.e., a David-type and a Kathy-type. The Kathy-type would initiate the conversation and the David-type would respond, but since we were in therapy the Kathy would be a little excessive and the David would be a little withdrawn. What often happened was a vicious circle which ended in the Kathy doing all the talking and the David wishing he were far away.

    The therapist's moral of the exercise was recognizing the different ways we each approached interactions.

  2. Oh Kathy! I can imagine the first TA meeting.... Bless his heart. Yes, another way that David has shown how he is maturing. He kept his respect for mom-mom. But finally, gave his little signal....ever so respectfully and quietly....and told you with that - I'm ok, mom-mom, I'm handling it in my own way. I will be ok.....will you? Mouths of babes. sigh

  3. Allie suffers from that ailment. She talks in her sleep. Whole conversations. I feel Davids pain :)

  4. I understand how David feels. My son and I seem to take on the moods of others. I can't explain it. It's just a feeling that one minute I'm fine and the next I feel the anger or sadness of someone in close proximity to me.

    As for your disorder, very cute by the way, I don't have that problem. My son, Austin, has his moments where he can't stop talking and then other times when he chooses to not speak. There is never a happy medium with him. My mother termed the same disorder as Verbal Diarrhea. LOL