I know it's hard... every day

We have our first real snow on the ground, and the boys are excited. This morning I had to dig out the boots and snowpants. This picture was our Christmas card attempt 2 years ago (I was about 6 months pregnant with Tommy.) I don't think we actually mailed out cards that year- I don't know why, because this picture is pretty good. Anyway...

Charlie's mom talked a couple days ago about packing his lunch, and the "huge responsibility" of that action. This touches on one of my frustrations with being a mom of a special needs kid.

Some mommy tasks, like packing a lunch, just should not have so much riding on them. We tried having Henry buy lunch one day at school, but that didn't go well. His teacher said that she thinks he likes the comfort of bringing lunch from home. I'm happy to do that for him- that way I can be more confident that he'll actually eat.

So I have to include some of Henry's favorites in the Fantastic Four lunchbox, so he'll be sure to eat and have a productive and cooperative day. But I can't just brainlessly pack the same thing in his lunch every day, because then he'll grow to expect only the same things in his lunch and if I should run out of BBQ potato chips one day, and send a granola bar instead, he'll flip his lid.

I get worn out by walking the fine line between giving my child comfort and familiarity with his favorite things, and realizing too late that I have backed myself into a BBQ chip (or, at dinnertime, "pasta with tomato sauce") corner.

I end up questioning every routine. "Wait, did I play this CD for him last night when he went to bed? I'd better play a different one, or he'll get hooked on this one." One good thing is that because of various sports schedules, etc., we don't usually follow the same routine in the afternoons and evenings. Sometimes he goes to the gym with Bill while he works out, sometimes goes along to basketball practice, sometimes gets to hang out and watch a movie at home, but not every day. I guess that keeps things from getting too predictable for Henry.

One morning when he was protesting getting in the car to go to school, I said in a soothing voice "I know it's hard on Monday mornings." So now every morning when I'm buckling him in, he says (in an imitation of my "soothing" voice) "I know it's hard on (-insert name of day here-) mornings." It's funny and touching to me- I think Mondays are particularly hard sometimes. But I guess Henry thinks each day is just as hard as the last! Or maybe he's trying to comfort his frazzled mother. That's probably it!