rOTten

I had to fire the Occupational Therapist yesterday.

It was our second visit with her. I thought it was bad last week, but this week was even worse.

I thought she couldn't remember my child's name because they had just met. I gave her some leeway. Even though I corrected her over and over and over again.

I allowed her to discount what I knew to be true about my child only so that she could eventually figure out that I was right after all.

I sat in the room, amidst total chaos, and realized that there was no way that my daughter was ever going to be able to focus in this environment.

I heard her say that our chief concern was something that she had no idea how to address.

I watched her get frustrated when my child didn't answer when she continued to call her the wrong name.

I saw her watching the clock the entire time and then end each session early.

I heard her ask me to change our appointment time and then look bothered when I said that would not be possible as we had a conflict.

I saw her discount my child's abilities. "Oh, that's much too difficult for her," she said. "Really?" I replied. Because she does something similar at home and has been for months.

I'm sure there was more.

But any of these should have been enough.

So, in my most calm voice, doing my best to protect her from my truest emotions, I politely told her that we would no longer be needing her services. She was welcome to do whatever she had planned with that precious 45 minute slot after all. Because we wouldn't be back.

See, here's the thing. My child is almost four. She's been seeing therapists in some capacity since she was six weeks old. This was not my first trip to the rodeo.

As much as I don't want to be that mom, that mom gets things done. She knows that her time is precious, as is her child, and wasting resources gets us nowhere.

It's tiring, draining, being that mom.

But that mom? She's getting 45 minutes of life back next week.

Maybe we'll go get ice cream instead.

Using a spoon counts as OT, right?

In all honesty, I'm proud of myself. Part of me wanted to just give it more time. Maybe another session or two. This place is so close to the house. They're just getting to know one another. It'll be awkward when we come back to the office for Physical Therapy. Maybe I'm just being too quick to judge. Are my expectations too high?

And then I came to my senses.

Trust yourselves, ladies.

You have instincts for a reason. Your kids deserve the best and so do you.

And here I was thinking that it was just my kid that was getting therapy.

Lessons are everywhere.