The Weight

Sometimes the only way to get moving is simply to pick up one foot and put it in front of another. So...here goes.

The last few weeks have been so full. I feel like I've been jammed into my existence with barely enough room to breathe. Instead of writing, when I've had a free moment I've been trying to find something – prayer, meditation, hypnosis – that can take away the anxiety and stress that keeps me rigid and fearful and blind to the joy of this life.

I miss writing in this way.

I've been writing for work. And I've given a lot of thought to some creative writing that I want to do, although I haven't actually put pen to paper in that regard.

I miss writing in this intimate and meaningful way. I miss sharing the things that are challenging me and shaping me and hurting me and encouraging me.

Like the fact that I am incredibly worried about Brendan and my heart is breaking as I try to figure out how to mother him. He's so challenging right now. Defiant and frustrated and frustrating. He's not loving school. He tries hard and does really well in class. But getting him to do his homework is killing me. Like pulling teeth. For both of us.

His first parent-teacher conference left us shocked and terrified as the teacher suggested he has a fine motor skills delay. She told us how sweet and intelligent he his, but suggested he is falling behind because he lacks the fine motor skills to write and draw as well as the other kids. She suggested that he be evaluated by the school's occupational therapist, but then told me on Friday that the paperwork required is too extensive and that we should have him looked at sooner rather than later. I had already called our pediatrician and scheduled something at the Children's Hospital anyway.

I can't help but worry. I am terrified over what it might mean. Combined with his resistance to doing homework, his lack of interest in reading, and his stubbornness, I am so worried about his ability to live up to his potential, to become or achieve success and happiness in life.

How do you get a kid to enjoy homework? How do you make someone love reading if they don't? What do you do when those behaviors are so foreign to your own beliefs and way of thinking and living that you can't understand it and find a way to motivate your child?

I never imagined myself in this situation. Although it sure seems I've found myself saying that a lot these last few years.

I want the best for my son. If only I knew how to help him achieve it.