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.