Serving Two Masters

The Bible says that "No man can serve two masters."  

Well, it definitely wasn't writing about working moms. And certainly not about working moms with any kind of special kid.

I feel as if I have at least two masters in an average day, at least if I want to pay the bills and keep moving forward. 

As an ADHD mom, I'm constantly serving my son. Not literally. Okay, not literally all the time. But I am serving him in the sense that I am preparing meals, laying out clothes (that he ought to be), cajoling him to finish eating, urging him to finish dressing, trying to get him to finish homework, and on and on.

Serving him also includes trying to find the right dosage, the right combination of medication. Taking him to social worker appointments. Dealing with teachers who just don't get it. Buying software that might help. Reading blogs and websites, trying to learn more and find more ideas to make things better for him.

Then there is work. Work would like to think that for at least eight hours a day I am completely in service to the organization. And I try to be. I have a good job, one that carries a lot of responsibility and really takes up at least every minute of those eight hours. One that really could use the occasional evening or weekend put towards it.

But I don't have it to give. In fact, I use small bits of those eight hours to make those calls to the doctor. To take Dylan to the social worker appointment or meet with the teachers. Even to read blogs and message boards. 

No matter where I am, I feel as though I am not doing enough, and not where I ought to be. At work, I feel like I need the time with my son, or at least for my son. I need to work on that letter to the school. I need to be working with Dylan on homework. I need to be searching for that piece of information that might make the difference.

At home, I think about all the things I haven't done at work. Deadline things. Work that other people are counting on. Work that helps me keep my job.

Forget about any kind of a social life. 

We've been having some rough evenings dealing with Dylan and homework. A couple of nights ago, I met a friend for a long-awaited, often-canceled night out. I didn't call home to check at all while I was out, but it was there with me, sitting on my shoulder, gnawing at me as my friend and I shared appetizers and wine. I wondered how it was going at home, if things had gotten bad again, and if I should be there to help. 

Unfortunately, I was duly rewarded when I got home to hear about how rough it was, how Dylan fought with RockStar and refused, completely refused, to do homework. 

It makes me feel a bit like this guy above. I'm never quite where I ought to be and very often wherever I am is not where I want to be, or need to be.

Today is a perfect example.

I took a sick day today.  Yes, I was not technically sick (shh....). But I did deal with a pressing medical/health problem. I arranged to try an afternoon "bump" of medicine to help Dylan be able to stay focused during homework, and secured the appropriate paperwork from the school to do so. I also prepared a letter for the principal, formally requested a full individual evaluation (and learned that correct phrase in order to ask for it properly). I arranged to meet a tutor who may begin working with Dylan soon to help fill in the many gaps in what the teachers are not getting through to him. I did some searing for targeted medical professionals (psychiatrists, neurologists, and psychologists) and reached out to find a school advocate. And I also caught up on blogs and sites where I learned new information. 

I felt guilty, but I also felt validated. I was not getting all of this done before. And it had to get done. Whether I was doing it at work or not, it was sitting on my shoulder there and keeping me from being as productive as I could be.

Tomorrow, I will go back to work and try to serve that master to my fullest ability. While also wishing I could be with my son and help him navigate this confusing world that he doesn't quite fit into as smoothly as he would like. The two headed snake slithers along.