AC Day Seven. Do-over! Do-over!

I did not like today. Actually, I haven't liked this week. I really think Christine should have scheduled this whole shebang at a time more conducive to my low anxiety levels. There; that's my RAD coming out- just with bigger words. Me. Me. Me.

This has been the last week of school. Stressful for the kiddos. Stressful for me. They are a mess knowing they will miss their (excellent) teachers. I am a mess knowing I will be needed every ten minutes for the next three months. I do love love love having them home. Really. It just takes me two weeks to feel how much I love it.

So, amongst preparing for three last day of school, three sets of gifts for seven (wonderful) teachers, parapros, and Mrs. M (who defies labels), and bus driver (seriously. She almost never yells), field trips, parties, parent-child soccer scrimmage, dress rehearsals, recitals,

I lost my mind somewhere.

I only made in five hugs. No Mom Time. No bonding, unless you count that she chose to hold my hand into OT. I can't even count that with a straight face.

Princess let me know it, too. Not with words, of course. And no tantrums, which is amazing. So amazing. But I saw her face change over during our bedtime ritual. I'm sure something I said wrong triggered it, but I can't even remember. I know she had felt inadequate (even though she wasn't) and frustrated during the soccer scrimmage. And right before I had discovered she had not put away a mess I had directed her to clean up earlier. The mess actually impeded her entering her bed, so I had to mention it. Anyway, I saw her face change over. If you have a RADlet, you probably know what I mean, but I can't describe it. I said, "I saw you just have a big feeling. I wonder if you'll tell me what it was." I have never gotten anything with the "big feeling" discussion, but I keep trying it. This time was no exception. She tried to convince me it had something to do with her cuticles. I did manage to keep things light and silly while letting her know I didn't buy it, not even on sale, and not pushing it too hard. But the look was there.

She walked around her room for the next hour. When it got too noisy, I popped in and told her not to worry about it, I wasn't angry, and she'd have a chance to pay back the time tomorrow.

And then all was silent.

Tomorrow is the real day seven. I'll rock it for all it's worth.

But I can't promise a chart.