The word that I used with my mom tonight when she asked how I was doing, was simply “defeated”. We got another call from Boy B’s teacher, it wasn’t as bad as last weeks, but it still wasn’t great.

This time, he was great in the class room, but not in his special classes, i.e. PE and Media Center. And though she said that he was great in his class, he didn’t make good choices. And I think that when my wife mentioned that the teacher suggested that we contact his Dr. (i.e. subtle for possible need for medication), I hit a low point for the day.

I don’t want my kids to be on medicine for behavior concerns at this age. I have too many resources, but this is part of raising twin boys. The perfect storm of being born early, boys and twins and the 2nd child. And as I took a deep breath and muddled the words “I feel defeated”, my mother, who never raises her voice came down on me like a ton of bricks. She said that I needed to hear. She got on me for the right reason. She got on me because I wasn’t focusing on the right things.

We talked through Boy B’s day. What was different than yesterday and the day before. We talked through his sleep pattern, his eating, etc. And then we figured out that the day was different. There was not a lot of transition time. He didn’t enough breakfast. His schedule was off this morning due to it being a Wednesday and the class schedule changed, etc. it all became the perfect storm.

So as I drove home from work, after a really long day, a few things came to mind.

1. I’m beyond fortunate that my mom has a background in teaching and that she can help me with these types of issues.
2. When I call and say that I’m defeated, that she knows exactly what I need to hear and builds me up, instead of letting me tear myself down.
3. And she gave me the same loving advice, that I hope that I can pass along to my boys one day.

So that feeling of being defeated, some how changed into, how can we make tomorrow better. And I hope that tomorrow will be better and that he make’s better choices.