I’m going to feel all lapsed-Catholic guilt for admitting this, but I sometimes despise this life. I hate that I don’t understand my own child. I despair that by my own actions I am the trigger to her crisis. I freaking loathe that this behavior doesn’t happen at school but only at home (see trigger comment). I despise that I cannot calm her, I cannot reason with her, I cannot even give in to her because if I do this will not be a daily occurrence but an hourly one.
If we were having a glass of wine, I would tell you how much I like that the Bruins are back. I missed my boys and my boys who only text me during the Bs.
If we were having a glass of wine, I would tell you that I need you as my personal shopper and go-to therapist. I would thank you for keeping it always real. Even when I fall in love with an online sweater that just doesn’t work in the real world. Continue reading →
Remember when I said we finally hit that typical milestone? The one that the school nurse calls and you have to take your child to get her eyebrow glued. Sigh. If only it ended there. Three days later my phone rings, again. “Hi Kerri, this is X from the school nurse’s office”.
Me: Did she hit her head again?
She: No, this time she has a sudden fever of 101.9 degrees.
This mom of the year couldn’t leave her office. Thankfully grandma was free and went to pick up the sick child. Then my phone rings, again. “Hi Kerri, this is mom. I don’t want to worry you but….I think she needs to go to the hospital.” Continue reading →
Every parent has received that call from the school nurse, “Mrs. Ames it is X from the nurses office, Everything is fine but…” You never have to actually go to the school. Usually it’s because the child is avoiding math (not my child, of course) or they bumped heads with a classmate (okay, probably Bridget). Then it happens, you get the call when you have to go to the school to pick up your child.
When you are a parent of a child who has a disability you have experiences that other parents do not. For example, this summer Bridget’s social program was not what I expected. There was a limited social program. I reached out to a local camp, who would take her but only if we provided an aide. With Abby I just sent her to camp. Continue reading →
If we were sharing a glass of wine, I would tell you this week has been better than last.
If we were sharing a glass of wine, I would thank you for “getting me” when Bridget was sick. Knowing there was one other person who heard she vomited and immediately got nervous because of her history made me feel less alone. (By the way, it was a common cold that of course got her reflux up–but no ER visit so we are counting it as a win) Continue reading →
The other day, I received an e-mail from a reader that read:
One day, as soon as my husband got home from work, I loaded up and drove to the park to read a book. I had to get away. I know it wasn’t my son’s fault he was pushing my buttons but I had to get away before I lost it and screamed at everyone.
I could have written that paragraph. I am sure my husband, after a long day with Bridget could have written that paragraph. I also know that if I did not know this reader’s backstory the above paragraph could have been written by any parent. This feeling of having to “get away” is not necessarily because her child has autism. It’s because he is a child and sometimes a child’s favorite past time is pushing their parent to their breaking point. Continue reading →
The other night the girls were watching Girl Meets World and the episode focused on cultural diversity, but from a unique angle. Rather than reading about cultures, the student assignment was to research their own background. Where did they come from? Continue reading →
It’s not my fault. I swear that I am to blame for many things. I admit to the fact that my personality, viewpoints and beliefs have changed since becoming a parent. I am definitely more vigilant. Until today I have never tiptoed over the line that separates the typical parents from those that hover. Until today when I became a helicopter mom. Continue reading →