Comment: Sweeping Rice

There comes a time when you have to sweep some rice. I’ve been very lucky that so far, my children have generally been fairly easy to take care of. Sure, the little one’s more ornery than a bedbug (and you know how they are) but overall, it’s all been in the realm of normalcy.

What I think is starting to happen is that we’re getting into the whole, little kids, little problems, big kids, big problems scene. My son is getting scared about things he didn’t used to be afraid of. He is more anxious and yet also sassier than he used to be.

Normal developmental stage? Possibly.

Me, I think I’m sweeping rice. You know how it is, on the rare occasions that you actually serve it, and millions of grains stick stubbornly to the floor, and it’s a bear to clean, but you do it anyway? That’s where we are right now. There's rice on our floor. And I need to clean it up.

I’ve noticed how hard change is for my son. I know because I have that problem myself. There’s a condition I have that he could very well have that makes it hard for him to deal with change, among other assorted bonus mental illness treats.

I don’t mean any of this lightly; but don’t you think it’s kind of obsessive to be watching your child for obsessive behaviors? Or perhaps it’s simply massive irony. I know I have OCD. I can’t tell yet if he has it. But I’m wondering. And of course, I don’t know if it’s me obsessing or him.

Pretty tricky, eh?

Anyway, there’s no need to panic. After all, I’m an expert. But it’s still so very hard to see him struggle, and I can only imagine what my parents went through when I went through this for YEARS, undiagnosed until I was 21. It’s not that they didn’t try to figure out what was wrong, they tried hard, but nothing added up. I didn’t have the vocabulary or the comprehension of what was happening to me to say, yes, I think I’m having obsessions and compulsions, everybody. OCD hadn’t even made Donahue yet. There was no way anybody was able to figure out what was up with me. I couldn’t explain it to anyone who could have known.

So I worry about my son. And I wonder if he’s worrying the same way I have, and do. Or, possibly, I’m worrying about the wrong thing. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Who knows? I’m just trying to be patient and not project my neuroses on him. This is easier said than done. But really, as parents, isn’t that all we can ultimately do? Try NOT to spread our issues on our children, as we love them into infinity and beyond? (Ten points if you get that reference.)

So I’ll keep listening.