Parenting is hard-even for parents of nt kids

So, I saw a FB meme that rubbed me the wrong way.  It was an astounded face and the caption was something  like, "the face I make when my friends who have nt kids say parenting is hard."  You know what.  It is hard.  It's hard to be a parent.  If we belittle our friends who have nt children, are we giving them support and empathy that we desire?

Raising decent human beings is hard.  Parents of kids on the spectrum, we don't have an exclusive on worry and sleepless nights.  We don't have an exclusive on how are we going to afford x, y, or z.  We don't have an exclusive on kids having meltdowns or tantrums in public.  We don't have an exclusive on feeling judged.  We don't have an exclusive on extreme picky eaters, kids who don't want their hair cut, kids who are hyper active.  We don't have an exclusive on kids being social outcasts or being bullied.  In fact, I recently witnessed some NT third graders being quite crappy to one another.   We don't have exclusives on any of it.

By saying parenting a NT child is easier by comparison does exactly what we don't want.  It marginalizes our kids.  It says to the world, they are harder to love, they are less than.  They aren't. 

Being a grown up is hard. Being a parent is hard. Period. By saying my life is harder than yours because my kid has autism is doing more harm than good for the autism community.  My life is different than yours.  Sure.  But my life is different than yours for more reasons than autism.  It doesn't make it harder, it makes it my life.  My dad sent me this meme, and I think it speaks volumes.

Love one another. Support one another.

Xoxoxo 

K

Feeling blah

So you know those times when you probably (okay definitely) shouldn't be allowed to interact with other human beings because exactly nothing they do or say is going to be right?  No?!? You don't have those moments? Or days? Or weeks?  Be honest.  Sure you do.  That's the space I'm in right now.

Everyone and everything is up under my skin.  I feel like shouting.  Well, maybe I  am shouting. A lot. Then, the guilt sets in.  Dad gum.  I am the poster child for Imperfection this week.  

I need a vacation.  From my mood.  None of the normal tricks are working either.  Time to myself.  I miss my kids.  Time with my kids. In my head I'm saying make me a bird so I can fly far, far away."

I'm sure there are a lot of issues at play here.  Sadness, worry, desire for chocolate, guilt, need to get a lot of stuff done...to the point that I do none of it because that's way easier than starting any one of the number of projects that need doing.

Yesterday, I had a thought.  What if I started a nonprofit group.  And with the money we raise, we can send fellow imperfects on a retreat together.  That's doing good works, right?!?  It would totally have to be at a super 8 motel or something.  Maybe we could get it close to the airport and we could go to look at all the fancy locals we could pick from.  Then, we'd head back to the super 8, find someplace fancy like Chilis and have cocktails and horsdeveurs.  

But then I think.  Ugh.  That would just mean packing a bag an then the dreaded unpacking of said bag when the retreat was over.  Plus, I'd miss my kids that make me crazy.  

I guess I'll settle for coffee. And time. Time to let this mood pass.  We did "gain" and hour which you totally know my internal clock adjusted to right away. 

Have a good day, y'all.  Thanks for letting me get that randomness out!

Parent teacher conferences

So, the best way to have a good parent teacher conference is to have a good parent teacher relationship with communication that happens not only at the end of the six weeks but as issues arise and sometimes just to say, "hey, I wanted to tell you he's having a great week."  

This years parent teacher conference was so awesome.  I have to say, I may bribe, plead, beg, coerce these two to follow big brudder all the way through high school and beyond.  There were no surprisess. There was no principal waiting for me as I walked in.  It was un enventful.  Wow!  I didn't hear, " Joseph has told several people (when he was upset and feeling out of control), 'I'm going to tell on you to my mom and she's going to call the government.'  These kinds of threats make me uncomfortable."  Last years gold medal winner comment.  So much to say about that.  A. It's too late now to punish him because you waiting god knows how long to tell me. B. Remember how I told you at the very beginning the gap between emotional age and intellectual age.  That "threat" demonstrates that perfectly.  Stomping saying I'm going to tell ( 3 y.o. Emotionally ) my moms going to call the government (higher intellectual reasoning).  C.  That's just kind of awesome.  D. You're going to let an (at the time)  8 year old hurt your feelings?  Sheesh.  

Anyway, that didn't happen.  You know what did happen a little vindication.  One of the teachers said, "I'll be honest, when I saw his name in the roster, I was scared.  Last year every time I went down the hallway, he was having a major issue.  This year, the teachers stop and ask 'how's Big Brudder doing?'  I tell them great. Because he is."  

So, we had to live through a bad year to get to this awesome point.  Some I'm sure is maturity, being familiar with the school.  More than that though, I believe in my heart of hearts it is this years match.  It works. He has two strong, in control teachers.  He feels that an doesn't feel the need to control everything.  While they are strong and in control, they are not rigid in their thinking.  If they see something is not working, they try to find a solution that works for everyone. Not just Big Brudder, not just them, not just the other students everyone .  I am beyond greatfull for this year.  We needed this year to happen.  I needed this year to happen.  Is he perfect?  No!  Will every day be perfect? Nuh- uh.  But more often than not, it's working, so it's a win!

The NT wee one it turns out is super smart too.  His greatest challenge is that he hates handwriting.  It's hard for him and he doesn't like doing it. So, he does the bare minimum.  Gotta work on that. :-). He has lots of friends and talks in class but stops with reminders.  (Did I ever tell you I almost always had an 'N' in conduct because I "talked excessively."  I guess he comes by it honestly.  

Right now, I'm basking in the glow of my smarty pants kids who are just awesome!

Seven and nine...

So another birthday for my boys has come and gone.  They are seven and nine.  How in the world has that happened at such warp speed?!?

The wee one was sick all week.  In a mother of the year moment, I fussed him up one side and down the other on Monday for being difficult getting ready for soccer.  Turns out he had strep with NO fever. He still had the best birthday eber.  

Big brudder had such a good day on Friday dispite the fact that it was a. Picture day b. Homecoming and c. Come And Take It.  I've never been so glad to not be a teacher as I was on Friday. You could feel the excitement vibrating in the walls of big brudders school.  

Both boys have such amazing teachers who just help them soar.  For the first time in a long time, it feels safe to drop big brudder off.  I'm not on edge about why the school might call.

We've had a guest in the house.  Mimi ( my mom) came for a visit.  The wee one has had five or so sick days to make up for and had been acting like a rabid Tasmanian devil with a caffeine addiction.  I think that's a pretty accurate description of both his body and the speed with which his mouth has been moving.  Big brudder agreed to something, some sort of deal the wee one struck with him, without hearing the finer points because oh my god he's spouting so much non essential information with bits of important thrown in the middle.  I hope there isn't a test later.  Wait, there's always a test later.

The boys officially have more money in their pockets than I do in the bank.  Talk about taking it in.  I was proud no one put up a big fight to put the cash in the bank.  They each had to budget and pick something at the happiest place on earth (target) and save the rest of their gift cards for when the book fair comes to town...oh and for the glorious day that Minecraft comes out for PS3.  I'm not buying that.  

Big brudder is making great strides in his social skills.  Maybe not great strides, but strides none the less.  He's trying to develop friendships and that's hard for him.  I would like to see him try to be friends with the kids who talk to him not the ones who ignore him.  He's like my old cat Sylvester that way.  The more you pushed him off and away, the more determined he became that you would love him.  

The wee one is still his brudders biggest champion and loves him more than anyone else in the planet.  He thinks he's awesome, and he's right.  I think the wee one is pretty awesome too even in rabid Tasmanian devil mode.

I can't wait for school pictures to come back. I wonder if the wee ones neck is stretched and eyebrows raised like last year?

On a personal note, I'm excited that my Perfect Parents Need Not Apply Facebook page is slowly growing.  It feels good to know that I might make a small difference to someone out there.  

I hope you all have a fantastic day.  I think we might head out to the last day of the Come And Take It.  Wish me luck, although our first cold front has come in and it's supposed to be a chilly 83 degrees today. 

Xoxoxo

Distance

Now that I'm a few hours removed from the torture that was opening day of soccer, I can look back and say...

Yep, it was indeed terrible.  Big brudder started off with a meltdown.  And for those of you familiar with a true anxiety induced meltdown, you know once one hits, they come fast and furious.  For those if you unfamiliar with a true meltdown and confuse a tantrum and a meltdown, I'll explain the difference.  A tantrum comes about when a child is not getting his or her way.  I want that new toy, tears, stomping, etc ensue.  There can be some doozies as far as tantrums go, but their root is not in anxiety, over stimulation, etc.  A meltdown is the result of a child (or sometimes an overtired mother) having too much (stimulation, anxiety, etc) to the point his body and mind and spirit are at it's breaking point.  Sometimes a tantrum and a meltdown look the same.  A tantrum doesn't cause long term (sometimes hours long) clusters. A meltdown can and often does.  Once a kiddo reaches that point he or she may be able to bring himself back, but every time he becomes upset even slightly from that point forward a new meltdown begins.  This is why I say cluster.  Kind of like migraines can come in clusters so can meltdowns.  I digress...

We had one of those days.  Big brudder did really well during opening ceremonies, so when they said they were going to take the kids to take a big group photo, I stayed put and let him go with his coaches.  Here's my thinking on this. A. I was in the same park B.  He has been doing so well at school as of late.  C. Sometimes, I tend to micromanage him, causing us both great frustration.  D. Oh, his coaches have got this.  (Hindsight, points a, b, c and d are totally invalid on this day.  I should have reverted to rule 1.  Don't push your luck). Meltdown one occurred because of the photo.  Something about being scared of the photographer ( more likely the 165 kids trying to get lined up and their parents micromanaging. ;-) ). Meltdown two comes when someone tells him they have to do an equipment check on him.  To be fair, big brudder doesn't like strangers.  It's not that he doesn't like them, it's that he may not remember you till his met you a thousand times and even then if you are not in the context he knows you in, he won't know who the hell you are.  So, that's two strikes and the game hasn't even started. :-(. Mini meltdowns every five minutes until the last period of the game.  

So after the game, I told him that if he needed to not play anymore, if it wasn't good for him, he didn't have to come back. (Mother of the year moment here, I was hoping he would want to quit.  Don't judge me!). He says to me, "No, mama.  Every time is going to get easier and better."

Well damn it. Somehow, this kid that had MAJOR meltdowns for nearly two hours has more emotional maturity than his thirty-something year old mother.  At the time I didn't praise him.  I should have. Right Then. Right There.  After thinking on it, I told him how proud I was of him.  That so many kids would just quit because it's hard, but you just can't keep him down.  

I should also say how wonderful, patient and kind his coaches and teammates are.  I KNOW it's not easy or fun for them.  I appreciate them so very much.  And the wee one.  He is sch a sweet, protective and awesome brother.  During the meltdowns that I'm kind of thankful I didn't witness because honestly I couldn't control them anyway and they send me to the brink, the wee one helped his brother through.  I couldn't be more proud of him.

So the day that was doomed from the start is actually a success.  Isn't it weird how that works?!?  We all survived with minimal lasting emotional scars, my kid isn't a quitter even if I wish at times he were, my other kid is the type of kid who will help his brudder out. Distance equals a new perspective.  I like this one better.

Xoxoxo

Wanna know a secret?

Life is messy and imperfect.  Sometimes, at the same time.  I have begun to accept and embrace my imperfections as a parent, a wife, a friend, in all areas of my life.  

It feels good to laugh at myself.  It feels so good to be able to say "Wedensday sucks." When someone asks how soccer practice went.  At one point, I would

Have given the pretty answer.  The one where I say how much growth I've seen in my child (which is true).  But it feels so good to say, I hate Wednesday soccer practice.  My kid is miserable for 60 percent if it and I'm super miserable for 110 percent of it.  

It feels so good to laugh at the fact that I can't make pretty cake pops.  I try.  But man, they are UG-LY!  I feels good to admit that I often forget important things like picture day.  How else could I celebrate when I remember?  I embrace the fact that I will never make the beautiful snacks I see on Pinterest.  I still like to look.  I love my stack of well loved Better Homes and Gardens magazines and that NOT ONCE willy porch look like a fall wonderland.  I love that I have found support from friends in sharing my mother of the year moments which may or may not include the wee one going to school without underwear for a couple of days in a row and the eldest wearing his shorts backwards all day.

I love my imperfect, messy life.  It's not pretty.  Once I learned that my brave face has a time and place and that my true self deserves MORE TIME and a BIGGER PLACE, I'm happier.

What part of recognizing your imperfections has freed you?

Once Upon A Time...

There was this beautiful woman (hint. it's me).  She had to hand out all these forms to her kids' teachers to fill out for the developmental pediatrician.  Where these filled out forms supposed to be confidential?  Who knows.  Would you be able to hold that kind of goldmine and NOT look at it???  Anyway, THIS woman read the filled out forms and was so sad to find that one of her child's teachers felt he was vindictive and manipulative. 

Fast forward this lovely fairy tale six months or so.  The woman was running five or so minutes late for getting her children deliverd to school.  She THOUGHT she needed to rush.  That's when something beautiful happend.  A car (I'm not vindictive enough to give make, model and license plates here) got on the beautiful and kind woman's (again, it's me) bumper.  The beautiful, kind and witty (you get the drift.  it's me!) woman got behind a garbage truck on garbage day.  When she glanced in her rear view mirror, what did she see?  The wicked witch who felt her perfectly imperfect child was manipulative and vindictive.  This gave the beautiful, kind, witty and charming woman the calm she needed to realize she wasn't running THAT late.

In another stroke of good fortune this fine morning, the beautiful, kind, witty, charming and goddess like woman got stuck behind not one but TWO gravel trucks traveling significantly below the speed limit.  When glancing in her rearview mirror she noticed what looked like beams of fire imminating from the evil witches broom.  Nope.  She was just flashing her headlights.

With a sigh of content, the beautiful, kind, witty, charming, goddess like and now serene woman drops her eldest off with a smile seeing the wicked witch see her and know that it was her she was stuck behind.

Now, I leave you with this smile.  It's the small things that make this girl feel good.

In all seriousness, I totally think this event helped me move on.  Weird, right?