I still haven’t totally learned my lesson regarding procrastination.
I’ve definitely gotten better. But I guess the expectation of completely rewiring my 44-year-old procrastinating brain in a couple weeks may be a little unrealistic.
One of the things I still struggle with is remembering to have the kids get ready early enough before we have to leave to go somewhere.
That window of getting ready opportunity is kind of small up until about four or five years old.
Get a two-year-old dressed too early, and he will spill crap all over himself or somehow get himself soaking wet 5 minutes before you need to head out the door.
Fix your three-year-old daughter’s hair ten minutes too soon, and that braid and ponytail will be ripped out before you have a chance to leave the house.
But once they get to that school age, they (usually) have a longer shelf life.
They can be ready an hour before it’s time to go without completely ruining their clothing.
But I forget that. And I still wait too long.
And yesterday, I lost track of time because I was trying to finish up a post.
I looked at the clock, and we had about 10 minutes before I had to leave to get Number 3 to his basketball game.
I hadn’t told him the night before (which is what I usually do), or even the hour before, to make sure he knew where his basketball shirt was.
Of course, he couldn’t find it.
Most of the laundry was washed and even folded, and his room was pretty clean.
I had no idea where it was.
I wasn’t even dressed yet. We were already going to be late.
The anxiety on my thermometer started rising.
I pictured a stop sign and counted to ten.
Number 3’s team shirt is just a black t-shirt with white lettering on it.
I told him he could wear a different black shirt, that it wasn’t a big deal.
He immediately started crying.
So, as calmly as I could manage, I told Number 3 that if he wanted, I would look for his shirt. But that would mean he would miss a pretty big part of his game.
And then I waited.
He loves basketball. I knew he didn’t want to be late.
Fine, he said. I’ll wear the other shirt.
He stomped up the stairs to put the wrong shirt on.
This was tough for me. He’s got issues with worry and anxiety.
I always struggle with what is enabling him versus what is being too hard on him.
Luckily I had to hurry and get dressed, so I didn’t have too much time to think about it.
He walked out to the car like a death row inmate on the way to electric chair.
He said nothing in the car.
I looked in the rearview mirror.
His eyes were red from crying. He was pissed. Completely anxiety ridden.
I thought about trying to cheer him up or saying, Nobody is even going to notice.
I thought about rehearsing responses to things other kids on the team could possibly say to him.
But I knew better.
I left him alone.
So when we pulled into the parking lot he was very hesitant to get out of the car.
People are going to make fun of me, he said.
Everyone is going to notice my shirt, he said.
I’m going to look stupid, he said.
You’re late, I said. Let’s go. I want to watch you play.
He took his time getting inside, and he took even more time taking off his sweats.
But the game had already started, so once he was down to his shorts and wrong t-shirt, he ran over to his coaches.
I sat down and watched.
As soon as subs were called, the coaches sent Number 3 in.
He got into position and was ready to play.
One of the kids on the team said hi to him.
And then another one of the kids said, Where’s your shirt?
Ugh.
I wasn’t surprised.
But I was surprised by Number 3’s response.
He smiled and looked at the kid.
I couldn’t find it, he said. Deal with it.
And with that, the ref blew the whistle, and the ball was in play.
Yeah Number 3!
Screw the t-shirt!
I watched him play with confidence, I watched him make 3 shots (which, in 8-year-old basketball, is no small accomplishment), and I watched him have fun.
He walked away from the game smiling, all the worries about the t-shirt behind him.
See? I said to him. T-shirt, Shmee shirt.
We both smiled as we walked to the car.
But we also both know what item Number 1 is on today’s to do list.
2ND PLACE SUCKS! I need your votes!
VOTE ! VOTE! VOTE ! VOTE! VOTE ! VOTE! VOTE ! VOTE!
I’ll keep writing, you keep voting!
All you need to do is click on the banner above to register a vote for me!
You can vote one time every 24 hours from your computer and cell phone! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! I really appreciate your support!
Check out and “like” the not-your-average-mom.com facebook page!
Follow me on Twitter @mom_not_average
He can now use this experience as a reminder that he was able to go forward even when he was uncomfortable. Great building block for anxiety situations!
I am learning that my procrastination hurts others too, just like your situation my oldest couldn’t find his belt yesterday and was so worried he would lose his too loose pants he wore a sort of funky belt. He was embarrassed but noone really noticed at his band performance. I have to start learning to check their stuff at least the night before. Good luck.
Oh, I have the same kid at my house, and the same issues with procrastination, and my blog is usually a main excuse for my procrastinating. Good job maintaining your cool and pulling him in on the decision making.
You handled that situation perfectly. My 8 yo son sounds similar to your son..he worries about the smallest things. I too struggle with whats enabling him and what’s being too hard. I guess its most important for us to offer support and understanding so they feel comfortable with their choices. And of course they know we are always there to protect them: )
I’m new to your blog but I am so glad that I found you. I love the authenticity! I am a mother of 4 boys and as much as I love my blog time the comparison monster has been chasing me around and growing at me. Thanks for making me feel a little less alone.