I mentioned in an early blog, that Mackenzie, my ADHHHHD daughter, was leaving for 3 weeks of summer camp. In that post, I wrote about the agony of packing up a kiddo for 3 weeks. I mean really, how do you know how many Tshirts, shorts, underwear, etc. your child needs when at home; they go through 2-3 outfits per day? At any rate, the packing got done, thanks to my older daughter’s superb organizing skills.
Then the fun began. I look forward to these 3 weeks off of mommy duty every year as a way to escape the intensity of living with severe ADHD. Each day that she’s away is filled with peace, quiet and fairly un-cluttered rooms. There are no screaming battles about teeth brushing, hoarding food in her bedroom, slamming doors, etc.
The normalcy of my days almost becomes unsettling. ‘Do you mean THIS is how most families live- all eating dinner together? No daily meltdowns? Chores getting done?’,I think to myself. Within 12 hours of the bus leaving, I become gloriously used to what others might label as normal. I can hear myself think. My stomach isn’t churning at every meal. Bedtime becomes quiet time in the house, where I can do leisure activities without constant interruptions.
Then why were these 3 weeks so difficult for me? Partly because I was cherishing each calm day so intensely, I found that I was practically dreading the day the bus would be bringing back my OWN DAUGHTER.
Those of you who have been following my blogs and other writings, know that I try to be as honest about my feelings as possible. Because I figure that if *I’m* feeling them, chances are, you are too.
I have 32 hours before ADHD touchdown. I know that once I see her mud caked but happy face, I will feel complete again. But in the back of my mind, I’ll remember the care-free days when I could come and go as I pleased and not have to worry about all the things moms with ADHD kids worry about 24/7.
But before that bus rolls into town, I think I’m going to splurge on one more day of freedom of stress. And I’m not going to feel guilty, because I know that I’ll have 344 days to be the best mom I can be.
So don’t I deserve a break once a year? Maybe next year I’ll do so… but without the guilt.