The Year of Living Hopefully

Thursdays are long days for Maddie. Her cab picks her up at 7:15 for an 8:00 school start. School releases at 3:20 and she usually gets home around 4:15, although sometimes she arrives closer to 5:00. Who wouldn’t be tired after a day like that? A kid who fatigues easily is especially challenged by such a long day.

Historically afternoons have been intense, challenging and stressful for us. Maddie has typically arrived home with little to no energy left, and unfortunately some work to do. She has rarely had enormous piles of work to do, but for her even a short and easy math assignment could spell doom. She was always just out of gas.

I’m sure she loves how each day, after I ask her to tell me a little bit about school, I then launch into a barrage of questions about her homework. I like to attack the problem early, making a plan for the evening. Like most people, she does best if she gets her work out of the way. The later it gets, the more difficult it is for her to restart. So she’ll have a snack and get right to work.

She knows the drill and mostly she accepts it. But it can be a little bit of a challenge to make it happen. I typically have to say the words, “Get started on your homework,” several times. That’s OK. That’s how it is. I try not to show my frustration no matter how many times I have to say it. Sometimes I succeed; other times not so much.

Yesterday the only urgent assignment was science. She had to read a chapter and take notes. Ever since my husband gave her some tips on note-taking (remember I’m the profuse note-taker, and his technique is more efficient), she has developed some confidence in her ability. That was especially apparent yesterday as she got out her book and her notebook and did her work completely independently. I wasn’t even in the same room! (I was in my son’s room helping him with his homework.)

Eventually she came downstairs. I asked, “Did you finish your science?”

“Yes!” she answered with enthusiasm. A thought popped into her head, and then she said the most remarkable thing. “I have to go put my stuff away!” And she ran upstairs to organize her school work and put it back in her backpack.

You cannot imagine the surprise and joy I felt in that moment. What to most parents would be an insignificant comment had so much meaning for me. This is an excellent example of executive functioning, an area in which she has always struggled.

She did her homework and remembered to put it all away. Oh. My. Gosh. Have we turned a corner? I bet that’s what you’re all thinking: Woohoo! She’s turned a corner! Problem solved! Right?

Well, maybe. As always, I’m excited in the moment and hopeful for the future because now I know she has it in her. But will she do the same thing tomorrow? Is this like the time she said “light” and then nothing else for six months? Just because she can, does it mean she will?

The remains to be seen. I have learned to temper my excitement with a big dose of realism. Some days Maddie functions well. Some days she has energy. Some days she is motivated. Some days she is focused. Other days can be quite different. Other days she has no energy, no focus, no interest, no motivation. Helping her overcome those roadblocks is my constant challenge. That’s just how it is.

But the fact that she can do her homework independently and think of what to do next means so much. It means that at least one some days, she will. I’ll take it. “Some days” is a lot better then “never.” Maybe “some days” will slowly become “most days.”

Right now I have a good feeling about that.