Part of his organizational handicap is definitely mine. In my need to ensure I wasn't smothering him ("mamma's boy" was his drama nickname), I cut him lose in his new school this year, confident that he was bright enough to "get it". My need to deal with my own distractions, hobbies, disappointments and discipline meant I truly neglected, unwittingly, the very reason I was trying to stay home and get healthy: my only son.
So he dejectedly stood before me, tail between legs waiting for the "mom yells at son" routine, tears not too far from the surface, self recrimination surging up.
Why am I my father? The authoritarian is so hurtful. I didn't go too far down that path this time, thank God. I became my mother partway through as I saw his pain. Then I quickly returned to being his mother and hugged him where it hurt and said "We'll find a way together to help you conquer this."
The first step is.... do one thing....
now where did i put my flylady