So here we are, almost a year later, riding the waves of ROYGBIV. And what a roller coaster it's been. In some ways this is a vent session. In some ways this is a pity party. In some way it's meant to inspire. I don't know. I just watched a few episodes of Parenthood at the behest of some co-workers and there's so much that I feel like I'm going to have my own meltdown.
First - what is that like? That moment when there were 2 parents sitting there, in a therapists office, holding hands supportively as they absorb the news that their child has Asperger's. WHAT IS THAT LIKE? You mean to tell me that there are families out there where that actually happens? Lemme get this straight - not everyone sits there alone to hear the news, goes home to handle the symptoms of it alone, holds their child down from a fit of self abuse alone, goes to every therapy session alone, meets with IEP teams alone, bears the stares alone, and otherwise handles every single ASD related issue alone? Really? What's that like? I've had good friends complement my strength. I've had family offer to correct his behavior for me. I've had people listen to me vent. But not one person has ever held my hand and reassured me that I can get him through this. And only recently has this even mattered to me. Sometimes, my knees start to shake and I second guess whether or not I can handle it even though I *know* I can handle it. And these teachers! Okay, this one teacher. She feels the need to win out over an 11 year old with Autism in a power struggle. I worry about this alone. Sure, I get those comforting "awww" sounds or "WOW's". And no one knows what to say and I don't know what I want to hear but for like 11 minutes I would love it if I didn't feel like the Autism world was on my shoulders. Or the support system where I didn't have to choose between The Middle Son's therapy or The Youngest Boy's soccer practice.
Every time I have to take part of my day off of work to handle one of these issues I get to feel like shit. Like I'm judged for taking time off to go play. There are days where I'd GLADLY trade places. I want to scream and ask what the hell they are so jealous of - a special needs kid? Being a single mother? Being the single mom of a special needs kid? WTF? I'd rather be at work. Sometimes I'd rather my child get through life without additional obstacles of a processing disorder. I can't imagine what would drive people to get upset at me for taking care of my child. My children are my reason for working. Not whoever is on the other side of the cubicle or whose wallet I'm bulking. How do I get picked out of the group to be the scapegoat for why time off has to be approved?
And Class Dojo can so totally go eff off. Every single day there are these reminders that his math teacher doesn't understand Autism. I've offered educational materials to aid the teachers in their understanding of the fundamentals of ASD. And I sit there, corrected, while I listen to a table full of people give me a laundry list of the kids they know that have ADD or ADHD. Part of me remains calm because I know it's the only thing that they have to relate The Middle Son to in their heads. Part of me wants to hit them because there is very little to nothing that connects Attention Deficit to the Spectrum. We all have struggles whether are kids are NT or ADD or ASD. But we do have to recognize that each is an individual beast. Then I hear how disorganized he is because he doesn't fit the cookie cutter kid mold. Then he's unprepared because he has the short term memory of Dory the fish. GOD FORBID they allow him to return to the previous classroom to retrieve materials because then the whole class would want to do it. I'm so tired of the pressure of getting all "green" today. The Middle Son couldn't really care less and it's really his feelings that matter but it's so difficult to keep that in mind. When the "1" lights up on the Dojo app - I know it's The Middle Son and I know it's because he didn't do his homework or didn't want to staple a paper or is disorganized or is unprepared. I want to cry. I know my child is different. He's 11. I think I've caught on. And I want to have the teacher's back but I really would prefer to scream. He's not going to change. All the Thumbs Up and Thumbs Down in the world will not make that any different. That new "-1" isn't going to be the miracle. So stop, please. Just stop. This is the equivalent of a "-1" to a wheel chair bound child for still not running the track today. And tomorrow. And Wednesday.
It's really all okay because at the end of the frustrating days where my heart hurts there's an occasional "I love you, Mom" and "I'm glad that I have you" and a "You're the best mom ever". And all of those things are so much easier to bear and I'm reminded of the importance of what I do and I'm blessed enough to get those accolades all to myself.
