I know all about Dabrowski’s Theory of Overexcitabilities. It’s possible that I Googled something along the lines of, “newborn easily startled by loud noises” when Lucy was a brand new baby, trying to figure out why she displayed “abnormal” reactions to stimuli (ice from the fridge, doors slamming, bumps in the road even!) and came across Dabrowski.
Even with 8 years of reading books on gifted kids, and knowing full well the intensities that go along with giftedness – why do I continue to harp on my kids? Examples of things I said today (yes, all in one day) that relate directly to overexcitabilities:
- Mom to Lily (5), “Can you PLEASE just PUT ON YOUR SHOES? I mean, I understand that the socks don’t quite feel right in them and the shoes feel like they are loose in the back, but I can’t spend 15 minutes every morning on shoe negotiation!” Later at the store, Lily, “Mom, PLEASE! I need these red sparkly shoes! I KNOW they don’t fit, but I PROMISE I won’t reject these!”
- Mom to Lily and Lucy (8) in the car after nonstop arguing, “Seriously, girls, you are driving me crazy! I just need like 60 seconds of peace. No fighting or bickering. Just sit there. Please, just sit there.”
- Mom to Lily about pizza ordered in a restaurant, “I understand how it tastes yeasty, but that is what you ordered, you need to eat it!”
- Mom to Lucy at 8:30pm after a 14 hour day, “Lucy, I can’t help you with creating a Halloween neighborhood out of tinfoil and empty kleenex boxes. I’m so tired I could just cry!”
It seems like each day at about 8:30pm, I am in complete shutdown mode. I really don’t understand why more parents don’t talk about how utterly exhausting parenting gifted kids is! Sometimes I just want to come up with a snappy comeback to people who comment, “Wow, your kids are so smart! You’re so lucky…”I get it. I mean, how would parents with normal kids be able to relate? Don’t get me wrong. I’m extraordinarily lucky that I have two insanely passionate, beautiful, emotional, highly intelligent daughters and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Except, maybe, the occasional car trip without World War III in the backseat.