He Did It Yesterday. So Why Can’t He Do It Today?

The In Between Mom 💙

There is something about raising a child with autism and ADHD that I still struggle to understand some days.

How can my child do something perfectly fine one day and act like it’s the hardest thing in the world the next?

I’m talking about the everyday things.

Getting dressed.

Putting on shoes.

Brushing teeth.

Walking into school.

Completing a worksheet.

Things I know Greyson can do because I’ve watched him do them.

And yet, there are mornings when those same things turn into a complete struggle.

Sometimes I find myself saying, “Greyson, you know how to do this. You did it yesterday!”

And honestly, I think that’s one of the hardest parts of parenting a child who struggles with independence.

Because I know he’s capable.

I’ve seen it.

But I’m learning that just because he can do something doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy for him every single day.

The Morning That Makes You Question Everything

Not long ago, Greyson woke up before all our alarms went off.

And trust me, we have plenty of alarms in this house.

He got himself dressed, got ready, and seemed excited to start his morning.

I remember thinking, Wow. Look at him go.

There was no arguing over clothes.

No constant reminders.

No negotiating just to get out the door.

Just my little boy doing something independently that we’ve been working on for what feels like forever.

And then there are mornings like the ones we’ve had recently.

Mornings filled with frustration, tears, yelling, and refusing to walk into school.

Mornings when putting on shoes feels like asking him to climb a mountain.

Mornings when I’m standing there wondering how we went from such a wonderful morning to this.

What changed?

Did I do something differently?

Is he tired?

Is he overwhelmed?

Is something bothering him that he can’t explain?

Or is today simply one of those days when everything feels harder?

I wish I always knew the answer.

But I don’t.

And I think that’s something we don’t talk about enough.

Sometimes, as parents, we genuinely don’t know why something that worked yesterday isn’t working today.

He Knows How. But That Doesn’t Always Mean He Can.

One thing I’ve been learning about autism and ADHD is that knowing how to do something and being able to do it in the moment aren’t always the same thing.

A child might understand every step of getting dressed but struggle to get started.

They might know how to complete a worksheet but become overwhelmed when they see how much work is on the page.

They might love school and their teachers but still have a difficult time walking through those doors.

And that last one?

That’s Greyson.

He loves his teachers.

He talks about them at home.

He gets excited about things happening at school.

But there are mornings when you would never know any of that by watching us walk toward the building.

Sometimes he refuses to move.

Sometimes he cries.

Sometimes his frustration comes out in ways that are difficult for both of us.

And sometimes I find myself thinking, But you love school. Why is this so hard?

I’m learning that the answer isn’t always about whether he wants to do something.

Sometimes it’s about everything his brain and body are trying to manage in that moment.

The transition.

The expectations.

The noise.

The emotions.

The feeling of being overwhelmed before the day has even started.

And while I can understand that better now than I could a few years ago, it doesn’t mean those mornings are suddenly easy.

Because understanding something and knowing exactly how to handle it are two very different things.

When Helping Becomes the Easier Option

Here’s something I’m going to admit.

Sometimes I help Greyson with things I know he can do himself.

Not because I don’t believe in him.

Not because I don’t want him to be independent.

But because sometimes I’m tired.

Sometimes we’re running late.

Sometimes I’ve already asked him five times to put on his shoes, and I know that if I just do it myself, we can finally get out the door.

And sometimes I simply don’t have the energy for another battle before eight o’clock in the morning.

There. I said it.

I know independence is important.

I know we have to give him opportunities to practice doing things on his own.

But there are mornings when getting everyone out of the house feels like an accomplishment all by itself.

And that’s where I struggle.

Am I helping him too much?

Am I making things harder for him in the long run?

Should I be pushing him a little more?

Or does he genuinely need my help in that moment?

I don’t think there’s always one perfect answer.

Some days, I encourage him to try again.

Some days, I break things down into smaller steps.

Some days, I give him extra time.

And some days, I help him because that’s what he needs.

I’m learning that supporting independence doesn’t always mean stepping away completely.

Sometimes it means standing beside him until he’s ready to take the next step.

The Words That Stay With Me

There is something Greyson has said that I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

“My brain tells me I can’t do hard things.”

I wish I could explain what hearing those words feels like as his momma.

Because I see so much potential in this little boy.

I see how smart he is.

I see how funny he is.

I see how much he loves learning when something interests him.

I see him work through math problems.

I see him try new activities.

I see him surprise himself when he accomplishes something he thought he couldn’t do.

But I also see the frustration.

I see how quickly his confidence can disappear when something feels difficult.

And I wonder how many times he’s already told himself he can’t do something before he even tries.

That’s what worries me more than whether he can get dressed independently or complete a worksheet without help.

I worry about how he sees himself.

I worry about him growing up believing he’s not smart enough or capable enough because some things take him longer.

I don’t want him to think that needing help means he’s failing.

And I certainly don’t want him to believe that having autism and ADHD means there are limits to what he can accomplish.

I want him to know that struggling with something doesn’t make him any less capable.

That asking for help is okay.

That trying again matters.

And that just because something is hard today doesn’t mean it will always be hard.

Sometimes I Have to Change My Expectations, Too

I think one of the biggest lessons this journey has taught me is that I can’t expect every day to look the same.

And that’s hard for me.

Because when Greyson has a really good day, I get excited.

I start thinking about how much progress he’s making.

Maybe we’re finally getting somewhere with our morning routine.

Maybe school drop-off is becoming easier.

Maybe he’s gaining the confidence we’ve been working so hard to build.

And then we have a difficult morning.

Suddenly, I find myself questioning everything again.

But I’m trying to remind myself that one difficult morning doesn’t erase all the good ones.

It doesn’t erase the day he got dressed independently.

It doesn’t erase the math problems he completed.

It doesn’t erase the book he picked up because he wanted to practice reading.

And it doesn’t erase the courage it took for him to participate in something new.

Those things still happened.

He still accomplished them.

A hard day doesn’t take any of that away.

Maybe progress isn’t about doing something perfectly every single time.

Maybe it’s about slowly building the confidence and skills to keep trying, even when some days require more support than others.

I’m His Momma, Not His Entire Future

Sometimes I catch myself worrying about things that are years away.

Will he be independent?

Will he be able to manage responsibilities on his own?

Will he have confidence in himself?

Will he know how to handle difficult situations when I’m not there?

Will he believe in himself as much as I believe in him?

And then I have to remind myself that he’s seven.

He’s still little.

He’s still learning.

And I don’t have to figure out his entire future today.

Right now, my job is to help him build the skills he needs, one step at a time.

To encourage him without making him feel like he’s constantly falling short.

To teach him that there are expectations and responsibilities, while also recognizing when something is genuinely difficult for him.

To celebrate his independence without making him feel ashamed when he needs help.

And maybe most importantly, to make sure he knows that my love for him has absolutely nothing to do with how independently he can do something.

Whether he gets dressed by himself or needs me to help.

Whether he walks into school smiling or needs extra encouragement.

Whether he finishes a worksheet independently or needs someone sitting beside him.

He’s still my Greyson.

And I’m still going to be cheering him on.

To the Momma Who Knows Her Child Can Do It

Maybe you’re reading this because you’ve had the same thoughts.

You know your child can do something.

You’ve watched them do it.

You’ve celebrated it.

And then the next day, you’re right back where you started.

Maybe you’ve wondered whether you’re being too easy on them.

Maybe you’ve wondered whether you’re expecting too much.

Maybe you’ve lost your patience and felt guilty afterward.

Or maybe you’re just exhausted from trying to figure out when to help and when to step back.

I understand.

I’m still figuring it out, too.

And I don’t think that makes us bad parents.

I think it makes us parents who are learning alongside our children.

Because the truth is, our children aren’t the only ones learning how to navigate this journey.

We are, too.

We’re learning patience.

We’re learning flexibility.

We’re learning that independence doesn’t happen on a perfect timeline.

And we’re learning that sometimes the most important thing we can give our children isn’t another reminder of what they should be able to do.

It’s the reassurance that we believe in them, even when they’re struggling to believe in themselves.

The In Between Is Where We’re Learning

I started The In Between Mom because so much of our life happens somewhere in the middle.

Between the good days and the hard ones.

Between needing help and wanting independence.

Between knowing what Greyson is capable of and understanding why some days are harder than others.

And honestly, I think that’s where we are right now.

Some mornings, he surprises me with how independent he’s becoming.

Other mornings, I’m reminding him for the tenth time to put on his shoes.

Some days, I feel like we’re making incredible progress.

Other days, I wonder if we’re moving backward.

But maybe we aren’t moving backward at all.

Maybe this is simply what learning looks like for him.

And maybe I need to stop expecting yesterday’s success to guarantee today’s.

Because he’s not a checklist of milestones.

He’s not a collection of behaviors we’re trying to change.

He’s a little boy.

A little boy with a big personality, a big heart, and a brain that sometimes makes everyday things feel harder than they look.

A little boy who is capable of so much.

A little boy who still needs his momma.

And that’s okay.

One day, I know there will be things he won’t need me for anymore.

One day, he’ll get himself ready without ten reminders.

One day, he might walk into school without looking back.

And one day, I might find myself missing the little boy who always wanted Momma to help.

So for now, we’re going to keep practicing.

We’re going to keep encouraging.

We’re going to keep celebrating the days when he surprises himself.

And on the days when he needs a little extra help, I’ll remind myself that needing support doesn’t erase his progress.

Because just because he did it yesterday doesn’t mean today will be easy.

And just because today was hard doesn’t mean he won’t do it again tomorrow.

We’re learning.

We’re growing.

And we’re figuring out this independence thing together.

One morning.

One reminder.

One brave little step at a time.

With love,