The monotony of love

'To bother persistently with trivial complaints' - To nag.

I never did want to be classed as a 'nagger', but it seems to be a role I'm slipping into with ease which is a tad worrying because the next stage up from nagging mother is tyrannical mother-in-law and I don't know if I have the energy for that - let alone the inclination... but...

Every day is like the film 'Groundhog Day'.

My son wakes up every day with his memory seemingly completely wiped from the day before, which is a trait I would love. As I'm still stinging from a heated conversation the day before about the merits of putting clothes in the washing basket rather than leaving them to amass on the bedroom floor for so long that they form a small uprising, grow legs and walk to the washing machine of their own accord to escape the pungent aroma of festering underwear and clothes, he is blithely re-starting life stuffing the cutlery down the sides of the settee (again) as he un-stacks the dishwasher not wanting to sort out the knives and forks into their particular spaces in the sideboard drawer.
'Aah! I hear you say, 'why doesn't she just give him two sets of underwear and clothes, so he is forced, by mere clothing deprivation, to put them in the wash?'
Those of you with children like my beautiful but challenging son will be knowingly scoffing at that concept. I tried it, proud of myself for being so clever, only to be outwitted by the latest member of the ‘Guiness Book of Records’ in achieving the longest amount of time the same pair of underpants has been worn by one person – my boy, who thought that spraying his clothes with air freshener cleaned and sanitised them at the same time. If only...

Nagging, lists, notes, contracts of behaviour, self-esteem sessions, counselling sessions, bribery, affirmation, punishment... threats of uploading a photo of his bedroom to Facebook - I have spent years reinforcing every day basic rules hoping that one day some will sink in. And some have. But mostly every day, even now at 15 years old, involves standing over him as he brushes his teeth, washes, does his homework, etcetera, etcetera. I don't mind doing it so much now, 'nagging' scarily rolls off me automatically with less exasperation. Now that we have a diagnosis, I understand him more. Working against us is the unreasonableness of adolescence which doesn't help. In some ways I'm glad we didn't get the diagnoses of ADHD and PDD-NOS earlier because, who knows, we may have given up and just accepted his behaviour as typical instead of constantly reinforcing basic concepts. We just keep going, trying not to keep score - there's no merit in counting - it would just overwhelm me. Every day, the monotony of 'nagging' is only relieved by knowing this one thing; behind every 'nag' there is a subliminal 'I love you so much - I want to help you to grow to your full potential and if that means me constantly reinforcing basic rules, then so be it but I'm not giving up on you.'.

I 'really' tell him I love him most days, scared he'll forget that he is loved in his 'Groundhog Day' world.

I realise that I tell him that I love him through 'nagging' about 30 times a day.

But who's counting?