Maddy entered her fourteen-year-old’s bedroom, bracing herself for what she might find. When she opened the door to his room, she was aghast.

“How do you plan to complete this?” she asked looking at the clothes on the floor, and the dirty windows of her son’s bedroom smeared with finger smudges.

“I’m not sure yet,” he said, thinking he should probably give her an answer so that she can go away.

“I want a plan of some sort because otherwise I know you’ll forget to get it done. Besides, it’s a good idea for someone else to know what your basic plan is so that you can be held accountable for what you plan to do, and it helps you to have someone keeping you focused.”

“Ummm….I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Well, what about setting an alarm or a timer to give you a chance to think about possible ideas?” Her hands were moving to her hips as if her arms were getting too tired to be at her side or she was having trouble standing straight (possibly losing her focus).

“I don’t know. I do know that I have to be finished with everything before the end of the month. Can you leave me alone now. Let me think about it. I promise, I’ll come up with a plan. I’ll get it done.”

“I don’t think I should leave here until you give me some sort of idea about how you plan to complete your room cleanup.”

“ I’ll use the Windex, I’ll take the laundry to the garage. I’ll change my bed and I’ll take out my bottles of Gatorade.”

“That’s not everything that needs to be done, but it is a good start.” She watched him pulling at his hair from the front toward the back. He kept looking at the computer, watching for something.

“Who are you waiting to see?” she asked, thinking it might be his friend, Asia.

“Do you have to pay any money?” hoping her son hadn’t started gambling. Her grandmother was always found at the local gambling hall, but seemed to have control over her spending. There were rumors that she spent much if not all of her save for a rainy day cash on Bingo.

“No, I just have to be there when Asia and them sign in.”

“I really think you should focus on getting your work finished first, then focus on that. Wouldn’t it make more sense to you?”

“No.”

“It makes more sense, really, because you learn to plan your time better and make sure you have all the work completed and out of the way.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“When you learn to do the work first, then play; you value your time better because when you become an adult, the work has to be done first.”

“Well, I’m still a kid. I think I value my time and will do the work when it is time to do the work. You’ve seen me. I always do my work.”

“I want you to get your work done first, then play. I see it too often, you playing then never getting to the work you are supposed to have done already.”

“No, that’s not true.”

“It is true. I noticed, when you start on the games first, you don’t stop to take care of other things.”

“That’s not true. I get my other things done.”

“Not without me repeating over and over again. I need you to complete these things now.”

“I will. Just leave me alone and I’ll get my stuff done.”

“But you’re going to play and the clothes will still be on the floor, the trash will still be scattered about the room and your bed wont’ be changed, which will make things smell very badly in here.”

“No it won’t.”

“Why is it that no matter what I suggest or tell you that needs to be done, there is always a contradiction from you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Why is it so hard for you to say, ‘Sorry, mom. Okay, mom, I’ll do it.’”

“Okay, mom. Can you go now?”

She walked back into the kitchen, noticing the mess of dishes in the sink she started but hadn’t finished, and resumed her task. Her identity wrapped up in her daily routine without excitement except when it couldn’t be completed because of complication or need to care for her youngest son due to a home health nurse not arriving. She took a deep breath to drive back some crazy tears wanting to surface while sudsing the plate.

It was quiet. Her son, Lou wasn’t his noisy self. She suddenly put the plate down to check on him. Sometimes the seizures prevented consistency in the routine schedule, which made the calm schedules a welcoming comfort. Lou was in his wheelchair, his body slumped to the side, his hand touching the floor. She grabbed a short stool with wheels and lifted his body into her lap, carefully caressing his face with her hands.  She reached for the nearest earlobe and pinched it. Nothing. His eyes kept shaking side to side in his sockets. She pinched his earlobe again, this time harder. His body resumed its liveliness. She checked her watch; thirty seconds from when she noticed his body limp. How long was this going on before she tuned in? She inhaled as deep as she could and talked to her son.

“Hey Lou!” she said with forced excitement. “Welcome back, buddy. Where have you been? Next time, tell me where you’re going.” She kissed him on the forehead. He looked at her and smiled as if her kiss was the magic to bring him into the present.

She fought the resurgence of tears pushing their way to the surface. A total circus she thought. How will we all survive?

*To Be Continued…..