Week 5: It Could Be Worse

She wouldn’t stop talking about whether she should get her nails crackled.  I had no idea what that was nor was I interested in finding out.  I wanted peace while I waited for my nails to dry.  The day before our summer vacation, I just wanted a few minutes before all the hectic commotion associated with packing, and getting us to our first vacation in 4 years entailed.  She wasn’t whining, but extremely insistent as she tried to talk her mother into footing the bill for the fancy nails.  She was 9.  Quickly, I realized I hated her because my 8 ½ year old wouldn’t know enough to ask for this specialized nail treatment.   

Sarah hates getting her nails painted, although she does like to leave them long.  When nails need to be cut, it is like she is being tortured.  Something about holding her hand that makes it worse.  It is hard to tell why she gets so upset. 

Two nights before I was cleaning the green and red Jello my 8 ½ year old had smeared all over the floor and refrigerator.  Something about setting the Jello people free.  This was an act of a 3-year old – not a nearly 9-year old about to enter the 3^rd grade.  I’m sure it started out with a simple thought of this is fun; then moved into the sensory feel of Jello through her hands.  Sometimes she loves the feel of things – sometimes it is beyond horrific.  That night I lost it.  I didn’t scream, but I clearly lost my usual patience dealing with the situation.  Immediately, she went into the bath, for the second time that day, to remove the Jello from her hair, then bed and the harshest penalty of all -- no electronics for 24 hours.  This was also agony. 

She knew better.  I know she did.  She just didn’t care.  Future consequences are very hard for her to understand.  Actually, the concept of future is hard for her to understand.  She keeps asking me to describe the future.  I just don’t know how.   After scolding her right before bed, I told her I loved her and then she told me she loved me too.  Then, I remembered . . .

Two nights earlier, I was brought to tears watching a 60 Minutes report on how the iPad had allowed non-verbal autistic kids to communicate.  I cried because I was happy for the kids and their families, but if I was being honest, it reminded me it could always be worse.