Have Wisps, Will Travel

"If you knew exactly what to do, I wouldn’t have to remind you every step of the way." This is a line I use frequently on Elijah. He’s in transition between complete dependency and independence. The transition is painful for both of us. I wake him in the morning with a list of things to be done: eat, get dressed, brush your teeth…in THAT order. He always responds with “You don’t have to tell me every morning. I know.“ I always find him at the breakfast table completely dressed, ultimately taking a good chance of changing a shirt or shorts or both. I sigh and go about my morning. He’s trying to be independent, I remind myself. TRYING, the operative word here. He disappears to the bathroom for a good ten minute and returns to the living room with an armful of silly bands and smelling like he just walked through the cologne aisle at Dillards. I look at him and he knows what’s coming and he’s preparing his response. “Did you brush your teeth?” He jumps up in a panic and yells “Not yet.” He scurries into the bathroom for a millisecond. He always returns muttering something to the effect of “…you didn’t give me enough time….”

There are many things I would like Elijah to do in the morning, i.e. make his bed, tidy up his room, clean up after his breakfast. But I only give him the 3 most important tasks, hoping like heck he gets those done. I am the frantic mother wanting my child as close to perfection as humanly possible.

I dropped him off at the bus stop one morning. He turns to kiss me and I get the faint smell of something but it’s not mint and it’s not clean. “Did you brush your teeth?” He forgot. Of course, he did. On a morning where I’m sure I asked him once, twice, possible three times and watched him scurry off each time. I held my breath and left him there, stinky breath, yellow teeth and all. I raced to Wal-Mart. Yes, at 7:15, I went to Wal-Mart, knowing I could get there and back to school before Elijah ever walked into the classroom. I bought Wisps. I never thought I would buy Wisps. I did. I was at school by 7:50 to see him playing on the playground. I bought snacks for his class, too, in order to cover my OCD-like behavior. His teacher met me in the hallway, so happy about the snacks. I asked to speak to Elijah and she spotted the Wisps in my bag. She knew the horror I had faced that morning. She raised two boys, she had been there but never THERE. Never to the moment that you are carrying a ready-made toothbrush into his classroom. Never to greet your child in the hallway and say “open wide.” I used two Wisps on him that morning for safe measures. Yes, I had accomplished all my mothering skills for the morning. I kind of thought I was a little bit crazy when I walked out of the school, carrying two wet Wisps and a smile on my face. It was validated when another mother spotted me. I couldn’t hide the Wisps quick enough. I laughed and told her what happened that morning. And as I replayed it step-by-step for her and she stared at me in horror, I realized I’ve become THAT mother. The overbearing, neurotic mother. I had become the mom the school office didn’t want to see walk in. Or have I been her the entire time?