Mr. Anal Retentive Has Done It Again
Ty has OCD in the worst of ways – if that’s possible. It took him nearly 30 minutes to get his cars into the bin so that we could go home from visiting the Rodrigues’. And since we were visitors and in front of other people, I couldn’t lose my cool like I normally would. I couldn’t shove all his cars into the bin myself. He started when Taylor spilled water onto his playspace. What is water doing around his cars anyway?? He screamed at her and flung his fists at her. I thought he may be tired, so I told him to start cleaning up. He threw the worst tantrum I have ever seen. EVER. FROM ANYONE! I felt like pulling my hair out. I knelt beside him and and showed him how to put the cars into his bin. They weren’t even his own cars; they belonged to Mrs. Rodrigues’ sons, and he was borrowing them while we visited. Thirty minutes -of being nice to him and calming him down and keeping Taylor and Kyle away from his work- started to feel like hours.
He’s the sweetest boy. But anything, any little thing can make him 180, and he becomes Mister Hyde.
I’ve threatened him jokingly that he’d be sent to school if he didn’t stop his insanty. Everything has to be about Ty. What does Ty want to watch? When does Ty want to get out of the shower? What does Ty want to do first? I feel like I’m ignoring my other kids because Ty takes up so much time, energy, and attention. I especially feel like I’m ignoring Kyle. Taylor gets attention because she still nurses. And she gets special attention because I take her to work with me. But what about Kyle? No wonder middle child syndrome exists.
I’ve often had to remind myself not to give in to Ty’s obsessive behavior. Last night, when I came home from work, I didn’t let him answer the door. He begged me, “Let me do it!” But I explained to him that I couldn’t give in, that I love him too much to allow him to become full-blown OCD. How do you ritard or arrest the development of such a debilitating disease? Not that he’s been diagnosed with it – but I’m convinced that a stranger would label him as such.
He makes me effing crazy. I feel like crying myself to sleep after each evening, trying to get him to brush his teeth without some effing stupid OCD episode of, “*I* have to go first,” and, “No, THIS way!!” He’s even gone so far as to yell at me to go to MY room. “Obey Ty!!”
