Sometimes, it is easy for me to just decide that Noé's "issues" are just something I made up. It is just me exaggerating things. It's just him having a bad day.
Sometimes, I just stop doing all the pressure therapy and let the schedule go unchanged for days at a time. I just take the kids wherever I want to take them. I do what I need to do and just let the kids play together without my constant guiding and supervision.
Sometimes, I try to pretend that Noé is just like other kids, and that I just need to expect more of him.
And then, about a week into this kind of thinking--I am reminded. Noé becomes defiant. Aggressive. Unrepentant. I feel as though I have lost connection with him. My efforts at molding his behavior are cast off with a wave of the hand, and defiant tone of voice.
And then I am re-convinced. Seeing the tip of the monster reminds me of the dark valleys we walked in mere months ago. I pull the schedule back out. I re-institute the times of pressure therapy. I return to being Noé's constant companion: Talk nice, be gentle, share with her, step over here, everything is ok, choose a good attitude, help me with this, let me help you, great job. You are amazing.
I go back to explaining everything. What I am doing. Where we will be going. What we are doing right now. What we will be doing when we get where we are getting. Exactly what might happen when we have something new on the schedule. Describing the past, present and future in the most realistic yet positive way I can. Trying to smooth out wrinkles before they happen.
We go back to slow world. To the world where I can't truly finish any one thing--besides loving on my man. The world where I might get there late, might leave early, might not have that deep conversation I would love to have--but I can look at my boy and know exactly what he is feeling. I can speak just the right thing in the right way, and see that he gets it. That, in that moment, he's ok.
Sometimes, it gets old. It gets frustrating. Feeling as thought I am constantly running but never getting anywhere. But--in the end... with all the good times and bad times that make up each day... I know I feel best with the day whose efforts end up with a boy sleeping peacefully in his bed. A boy whose very body language speaks of the utter peace and security he feels.
And that, my friends, is worth it.