what a morning

This was a really rough day with Leanna. She can be so difficult. I'm sure the neighbors(on one side anyway) think I am torturing the children on a daily basis. I get the kids' clothes out the night before to make things easier. But lately Leanna's been rebelling at everything. Her underwear don't feel right, her socks bother her feet or the tights hurt her toes, and the shoes are too tight. I can assure you there is no actual physical problem-the underwear, socks, tights, and shoes are all in actuality too big. Not so much that they're falling off her body, but enough that they contain plenty of room. I know what the problem is-Leanna is extra sensitive. I realized this when reading that book on "Spirited children." It fits in with so much of her personality. This was the girl who complained about swallowing spit. It explains her repeated complaints about one ear not hearing as well-we saw the pediatrician about it and then a hearing specialist, only to have them comfirm that there was absolutely nothing wrong with her ears. They even said, she probobly just had wax shift in her ear and she is more sensitive to it than most people who wouldn't even notice. Her pants have to fit just so on her waist. She's been complaining about shoes that are too tight for years now, even when I could fit a hand in on both sides of her shoes! With room to spare! The book explained that some kids truly are more sensitive to physical sensations like the textures of socks and such. It explained that they do not do this to drive you crazy(which I sometimes suspect). It is very real for them. Unfortunately this does not help me when she's taking 15 minutes to put on her shoes and won't let me help because they won't feel right. Today she ended up screaming at the top of her lungs and Timothy was crying for me and Justin tries to comfort Leanna which causes her to hit him and then he's crying too and I had to literally hold her upsidedown(screaming all the way) to get her pants on and shoes and socks on. She had stalled so much that I had no choice if we were to make it to school on time. She was still screaming on the porch as we left, I got a few stares on the way to school as the sniffles dried up. So one day, when she's not at her therapist's couch, maybe she will find this entry and understand a little better why I was the way I was. I'm sorry kiddo, I do the best I can.