Category Archives: Abby

I am the Dr. Jeckyll and Mrs. Hyde of Parenting

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Unless you are the parent of an only child, most of us will admit to parenting our children differently. You naturally parent a boy-child one way and a girl-child another. You could be the helicopter parent of the first-born (don’t touch the stove!) and the seasoned professional of your youngest (touch the stove, that will teach you).

This weekend I realized that I am the Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde of Parenting. 
It is not that I am taking what I learned with Abby and using (or not using) my infinite knowledge with Boo. Instead I have discovered I am two completely different personalities with each of the girls.  

For consideration:

Recently Boo and Abby started swim lessons. When Abby has hers I leave the pool area and (try to) ride the spinning bikes. When Boo is in hers? I hover and sit on the bench with an eagle eye. And she has a 1:1 ratio with the “Y” instructor. Last week when there four children and one instructor I was the captain in charge of leading the other moms to unite and explain that this was not safe or fair. Abby’s lesson? The instructor doesn’t even get in the pool with her. 

Abby must finish her dinner. Everything on her plate, no exceptions. Unless it is a new food then she has to at least try it. Boo? If she is tired and fussy she gets cereal for dinner. Even if I have to spoon it into her mouth.

Boo has to shower every morning. Abby? In the winter she might go a day (or two three) without. In my defense,  the only way to get a comb in Boo’s hair is when she is in the bathtub.

Boo goes to bed no later than 7pm every night. Abby has been known to stretch her bedtime an hour (or two).

I talk more with the moms of Boo’s classmates. I don’t even know some of Abby’s friends or their parents. 

I don’t worry about what Abby eats. She is a grazer like her mom. But she mixes it up. She knows for every piece of crap she has to have a piece of fruit or veggie. Boo would eat from the time her eyes open to the time they close. I monitor her diet and what she eats more than I do my own.

I worry less about Abby. She recently went on a sleepover with a friend to a house I had never been to with a mother I had met once. Boo? She is not allowed to go to pool parties, ice skating parties or anywhere that she might not be safe. Although David did ask the guy who invited her to the skating party if he was on drugs. 

Boo makes me cry more. Abby makes me want to pull my hair out in frustration during homework. 

I attend every doctor’s visit of Boo’s. I share Abby’s with David. Until this year’s physical when they both refused to go with the other one.

I will stop, sit or dance with Boo. I am more likely to tell Abby to wait until I am done the dishes.
Abby must make her bed every morning, no exception. Boo doesn’t but she has Abby make her bed, too. I tried getting Abby to make mine and failed.

The only time I am a mom of one brain/soul/heart with the girls is in my love for them. I hope it balances out, because there is no way in hell Abby is getting a pony.

How about you are you a Jeckyll and Hyde parent?








TBT–The Perfect Day

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Welcome to my version of Throw-Back Thursday, blog style. I’m taking Thursdays to revisit some older posts.  I hope you enjoy the trip back in time.

(Originally published 24-JUL-2012)

Yesterday I took the day off. Completely off. No work, no housework, nothing but spending the day with Abby. 

First we dropped Boo off at her school. Then….

We went to Dunkin Donuts and discovered the joy of the new Oreo donut. We went shopping. When offered the choice between doing our nails or going to a playground she chose the playground. We went to lunch, her choice where she could make our own pizza.

I was told I was the best mom ever (I am writing it down to remember when she is 16). I was told that we ‘have the most fun together’ (I am saving this for the college years). 

Then I was told something was missing. I’m biting my tongue to not tell her to be selfish when she says:

The only thing missing was Boo.

So we went to get Boo from school and finished the perfect day.


I need crowd control

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Recently Abby started swim lessons. Yes, I know we are a tad late to getting her skills up. Especially as we are surrounded by water. But well, we’ve been busy. As I was sitting at her lesson recently I realized that just across the pool was a windowed room that gave you a view of the pool.

The room was filled with stationary bikes. In a moment of AHA I thought why am I sitting here when I could be exercising. No I wasn’t hit on the head. 

This week I brought my shorts and sneakers with us. As she got into the pool I went to the next room and entered the land of the bikes.

Giving thanks there was no one else in the room as I realized that while it had been over a decade (plus) since I belonged to a gym. And then I only took classes. I never used the equipment. But it shouldn’t be too hard, right? I have never. Ever. Like never ridden a stationary bike before. A real bike, yes. One that you pedaled and didn’t change your scenery? A new experience. I ran into a few issues. 

First the bikes are freaking huge. As in I hop onto the seat and can not only not reach the pedals but cannot reach the handlebars (are they called that if they don’t steer?). Jump back off and spent a few minutes figuring out the adjustment. I figure out how to get it to the kiddie height. Hop back on and cannot move the pedals. 

What the heck? Is there a brake? There must be, but now it seems that doohickey on the handlebars is a tension control. Okay now I can move. I am in the zone. Watching Abby swim, I think this is great. I get 40 odd minutes of uninterrupted exercise plus I don’t have to sit in the overheated pool area with a mom who wants to make small chat.

A guy walks in and says you having a bike ride? I’m like no a pedicure. Anyway with 20 bikes in the room guess where he chooses?  YUP THE ONE RIGHT NEXT TO ME!!! Then he strikes up a conversation. Asking me if I was a member of the “Y”. (yes) Because he is not but thinking of joining. I didn’t even have to ask a follow-up question to find out while his children do their lessons he “sneaks” into this section and rides. He comments on wondering why more parents don’t take advantage of the equipment while their children are in the pool. (Maybe they are not members I think). And goes on and on which would have been fine except just as I’m about to finish an Adonis wannabe walks in and again asks…
You having a bike ride?
Men are idiots. But at least this one was eye candy.
I tell him I’m just finishing up b/c my daughter is about done. He gets the bike on the OTHER side of me. I’m like really? There are now 19 other bikes that could have been utilized. But apparently my area is the perfect area in which to ride. And like I said, this guy was eye candy.

I try again at Abby’s next lesson. There is not one person in there. WHOOPEE and I am prepared. I have my ear buds, music playlist and Kindle balanced on the bike. A woman walks in and says, oh are you teaching a class?

I think: yes and these are my invisible students. 
Instead I bite my tongue and reply: Nope just riding and enjoying the quiet while my daughter has her class. She gets on the bike right in front of me so I cannot even see the pool. She is in street clothes and flip flops. Um, weird but okay. I have my ear buds in and am reading my book. One sentence in and….

YUP SHE STARTS A CONVERSATION!!! (I guess my enjoying the quiet comment was too vague)

She is not a member but saw me riding and thought she could get 20 minutes of exercising in since it was raining. I channel my nephew of the one word answers. It doesn’t work. I hear about how this seat is better than that seat. I look back down at my book as she begins telling me about her two children. I keep pedaling, keep the ear buds in yet it goes on and on. I was wishing for eye candy.


The “Y” needs better crowd control.

A letter to myself

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I’m semi-participating in a Summer Blog Hop Challenge meant to show others how the life with a disability, or with a child who has a disability, is a journey. A never ending one, for sure. But a journey filled with triumphs and some tears. Of course per my usual stick–to-break-the-rules reputation instead of starting in week 1 it is now week 3. So today we are starting the journey half-way through with a letter to myself. Even though that was week 2’s prompt


Dear Younger Me,

I was going to write to the much younger us. The one who is upset because our first love left us. Or the one who just met David and thought um….not my type but sure let’s go to dinner. To the younger us who on the eve of her wedding and asked David to elope instead. Or to the new mom to Abby who was scared out of her mind at this thing that wouldn’t stop crying and tell you eventually she would no longer seem breakable. 

Instead I am writing this for you to receive after Boo’s birth. She is now four months old and you are thinking Holy Crap not only did I just get puked on from my neck to my toes I am getting a letter from the future. You are also thinking I’m writing to give you good news except you know us by now and realize maybe not.

First I want to tell you that Boo will survive. You can cry and breathe and rejoice. Now the other shoe dropping on your head is me telling you she will survive but it will not be easy. I am not writing to tell you what will happen. Because no matter what I write it either won’t change things or worse give you the magic answer you are looking form. Rather I write this to the mom of four-month old Boo to give you some advice.

Now you know it is really me, right?

Well here it is:

Never listen to a doctor, a nurse, therapist or school teacher that Boo cannot do something. There will be a doctor or two you will want to punch in the nose, but you will refrain from harming them.  

Pay no attention to someone who says that Boo is just like their daughter/son/grandchild and “will grow out of it”.

Never give up hope. In yourself or in Boo.

Do not ever, for one minute, stop searching for an answer. Do not listen to the doctor who says just accept Boo for who she is. It is too important. You and she need the answers and being an unknown neurological syndrome is not an answer.

Keep Early Intervention. As awful as it is you will need them when she is three. But do not listen to them when they say she does not need Spaulding Center for Children. You are right they are wrong and they will deal with being offended. 

As much as you have to fight to make Boo all she can be, you will spend more time loving her than fighting for her. She will impact not just your life but those around her. Boo is making a difference in this world one smile at a time.  You just have to get through the what seems to be unending puke phase. But I promise it does end.

You know all the friends that say “let me know if I can help”? Here’s the thing they WANT to help. You have to TELL them how. Instead of waiting for them to call you, call them. Say I just need someone to come over and sit with me. Call them and say David’s home do you want to go to the canal with me. Call them and say I’m drowning and just need a friend. Cry and laugh with them. You will be amazed at the support just waiting for you. Your future self knows she waited way too long to reach out. Once you do life will become so much easier and less lonely.

Remember that David is there and he is your partner in this unexpected life. Don’t wait so long to include him in Boo’s therapies (yes, there is more than one). You will be amazed at how well he does.

Lastly, give yourself a break. You are allowed to feel tired and overwhelmed. You are entitled to feel like this just isn’t fair. I promise you that this life becomes easier. You will one day brush your teeth before dinner time. You will one day wear a shirt without Boo’s remains on it. You will be amazed at her journey.

I won’t spoil the good parts for you. Be prepared to be amazed.

Love,
Older (but less tired) Me

PS–oh and don’t worry you will not cave and buy Abby a pony.







Throw back Thursday–Summer

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Welcome to my version of Throw-Back Thursday, blog style. I’m taking Thursdays to revisit some older posts.  I hope you enjoy the trip back in time.



Throw Back Thursday, Blog Style
(Originally posted 20-JUL-2012)
I love that line in “It’s a Wonderful Life” when the old man says to George and Mary, “Aw, youth is wasted on the wrong people”.

I think the same can be said about summer vacation. Abby is ‘BORED’ and you know it is bad when she is not only bored, but bored in capital letters! And for the life of me I cannot think of why! She has played in the pool—granted the kiddie pool because we cannot trust Boo or crazy puppy with the “big” 4ft pool, gone to the playground with Daddy while Boo is in school, gone to the marina and the fish hatchery, played with her Barbie(s) and the list goes on. And let’s not forget the week she was a freeloader at our friend’s beach house—while I was at work!

I offered to give her a list of things to do. But she wasn’t too impressed with my ideas:
  • Clean her room
  • Laundry
  • Sweep up the dust-bunnies created by crazy puppy
  • Clean Boo’s room
  • Cook dinner
  • Wash the windows
  • Clean my room (hey, why not?)
  • Clean the bathroom (okay, NO ONE wants to do that!)

 

If I had summer vacation, I would be ecstatic to be BORED. I would read, yes read, a book that had no meaning at all. I would go for walks on the beach. I would…I don’t know what I would do because it has been about 25 years since my last summer vacation!

But I bet there would be a nice glass of pinot grigio

Throw back Thursday–Inclusion

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Welcome to my version of Throw-Back Thursday, blog style. I’m taking Thursdays to revisit some older posts.  I hope you enjoy the trip back in time.


TBT Blog Style


(Originally posted 18-JUL-2012)

Allie is taking some summer help in math at a local school. This morning when I dropped Allie off she was telling me about the kids in her class. Some were from her current class and others she didn’t know. Allie said that there was only one other girl, a bunch of boys and one weird boy.

Weird boy, I asked, do you mean the boy with Down syndrome?

            What’s that? Allie replied.

Well he is special needs, like Boo, I explained


Oh, is that why he has a teacher just for him in the class? (Yup) That makes sense now. I thought there was something different but couldn’t figure it out. Why didn’t they tell me so I could help him?


This conversation floored me on many levels. First, Allie has intuitively known that there is something special about Boo and has accepted her without conditions. I automatically assumed that she would recognize and accept it in another child. Second, Allie attends enough of Boo’s therapy appointments to see other children like this boy. I was completely astounded that she even had to ask, or worse in her mind label this boy as “weird”.


Allie has been a staunch defender of Boo. She would never let one of her friends use that term with her sister, so why did she do it with a boy she just met? Have I failed in some way in to prepare and nurture her to accept all others like she does Boo?


Of course, I asked Allie! Not that specifically, but why she did she not understand that this boy was special. She thought because he was so big and not little like Boo he was just a boy.   I asked (just to make sure) that she hadn’t made fun of this boy. She was quick to say no, but that she wished that the teacher had told her because the other boys in the class did. Allie was so cute, telling me that she would make sure it didn’t happen again! We had a long talk about Boo and how would Allie feel if one of her classmates called Boo “weird”.


But it made me think, is inclusion working? Are the teachers and other parents explaining to their children that not all children can run, read, speak like others. Whose responsibility is it really? Mine, in some way because while I can educate/prepare Allie and she can then teach her peers. But neither Allie, her dad or I can go into Boo’s class and wake up the other children/parents. I can only be responsible for the children who interact with Boo in my presence.


Is it the teacher’s responsibility? Certainty, but how can they do this without embarrassing (not the right word, but hopefully you get my point!) the child in question. Allie thought the teacher should have let the kids know.


I think the biggest obstacle is that the other parents are not on the playground or in the classroom with their children. So they might not even be aware, like me, that their child may be prejudging some one. Think about it, if you do not have a special child would you think to educate your ‘typical’ child about a child with Downs, CP, and autism or like Boo one who is undiagnosed? I will admit that before Boo I cannot honestly say I would have said something to Allie until she asked/made a comment in my presence.


I think as children get older they may become more aware (and yes, mean). But at Allie’s age it is just a sense of innocence where they don’t really notice differences in others until the difference is glaringly obvious.


Boo is in an integrated preschool with a not so equal ratio of special/typical kiddos. Even there I notice that some parents look at us askew when Boo is not participating like their ‘typical’ kid in the class. Once a child asked their mom what was wrong with Boo and the mother, instead of educating, told the child to ‘hush’.


So I don’t know what the answer is, if integration is worth it or how to educate the world at large that Boo just has a different sense of typical.

No interest

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I have no interest in being a person who wallows. I do not want to be a blog that focuses on one theme. I think of this blog as my therapy. If I am lucky it is your therapy too because you realize you are not alone.

Whether your child is healthy and ornery like Abby or challenging like Boo or your house has a crazy puppy who is equal parts loving and destroying your house. I want all to feel welcome and to feel a connection.
Then there are days like today. The day that started out promising, too rainy to run. Waking up early to realize that the morning goes smoothly without incident. You knew it was too good to last.

It started innocently enough. With your daughter telling you that her pants had a whole in the, well, crotch yesterday. A boy on the bus noticed and it ended up into a discussion about who had an elephant trunk and who was flat.

Yeah. I went there. 

You tell the boys mom. Because you want to make sure that 1. she knows your child typically does not go into school with a hole in her crotch (unless she is Kristi) and 2. that you made sure there was no inappropriate show & tell on the bus that would get either kid suspended from elementary school. The other mom kind of reacted differently than you, had ‘the talk’ with her child. You felt bad because you saw and admitted to the inappropriate humor to the situation. The fact that Kristi saw the humor and said HEY RIGHT A BLOG POST ABOUT IT made you feel better.

You think that is the most you would have to deal with in a day. You think hey I handled this maturely. I answered my daughter’s questions in a way that she understood and didn’t feel embarrassed about. I promised not to tell her dad. Thank GOD he doesn’t read the blog since I never promised her I wouldn’t tell the world. 

Then the other shoe drops. Boo happens. She has a meltdown at school and at home. Abby tries to compensate by being the good girl. She tries to placate Boo but I stop her because I do not want to reward Boo’s behavior.

I realize that I am wallowing. I am stuck in this mantra that Boo is sucking the life out of us. That as awesome as she is, she is draining.  That I suck at this. That I cannot stop wondering where Spring is. When life will get easier.

When Boo will not demand so much energy (probably not going to happen). That I will not have to demand a doctor pay attention.

That I will not think life would be easier with the Abby issues.

I never intended to resent Boo. But sometimes I do.  Sometimes I suck at this whole “special” parenting thing.

Something else I never expected to do. I never had an interest in being a parent, let alone a parent of a child with challenges. Sometimes it is great. Sometimes it sucks. Most times it is not the life I intended.

But it is my life and I am doing the best I can, even when it seems I’m not.

Finish the Sentence Friday

Parent Teacher Conferences According To Abby

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We recently had Abby’s Parent-Teacher conference. Before leaving I asked her if there was anything I needed to know. What did she think her teacher would report?

She asked why SHE wasn’t allowed to do a report on her teacher.

Um….okay, well if you were going to give me a report on your teacher what would you say?

Abby: Oh, he is doing awesome and should keep up his hard work.

Phew, I thought. Back to my question: Do I need to be prepared for whatever he is going to say about you?

Abby: Let’s hope not, I don’t want to lose riding.


The word according to Abby

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The other day I jokingly said to Abby, “don’t you have the coolest mom ever”. 

She replied: “Um…craziest yes. But I’m sure you will be cool when I’m 40.”


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Stop staring. I think to myself. Stop whispering. I think to myself. I know my child isn’t behaving. I know she is disturbing Mass. I know she just pushed your son. I’m sorry. I really am. But stop.

You don’t have to point. You don’t have to say that your children knew how to behave. That they sat quietly with a book. That they were polite and perfect. You don’t have to tell the waiter that dinner was lovely but you wish they would seat disruptive children in another part of the restaurant.

Trust me, I think that is a fabulous idea. Take the old smoking section of the restaurant, make that the adult only section. (Cause let’s face it the smoking section was always in the bar). Make a section where the families can sit. Where moms and dads can enjoy a meal they did not cook or do the dishes when the child didn’t even taste the meal. 

Where they would not feel judged. 

What I really want to scream out loud is WE ARE DOING THE BEST WE CAN.

It’s been a long decade, year, month, week, day, hour, minute. We are holding onto our sanity by a thin thread. You might believe that your child was a perfect angel. That they never raised their voice inappropriately. That they sat quietly in Mass. That they never pushed a friend or hit a sibling.  Your child would never have colored outside the lines (or on the wall).

The truth is, just like childbirth, you have forgotten what it was like to have a young child. That you were once like us. Parents burnt out by work, family and homework. You are looking back at the good times of being a parent. The time when you son got an “A+” or your daughter kicked the winning goal.

You are forgetting the pain of doing fractions. The fight to brush their teeth. That beds will be unmade. That there are temper tantrums (sometimes being performed by the parent). That we are all tired, hungry and just done. So we went to a “family-friendly” restaurant for respite.

And got spite instead. As you sat in the booth across the aisle and sipped your wine. I did feel bad when Boo screamed (with joy, mind you) so loud over the pop corn you were startled and spilled your wine. At least it was white and will not stain. When you cringed because Abby was speaking in her outdoor voice. That your experience was spoiled by Boo hitting Abby because she wanted to use the crayon Abby was currently holding.

I get it. You were just looking for a night out as well. You were not expecting to be seated across a family whose children were really excited about cheese & crackers for an appetizer. 

You could have ordered me a glass of wine, with a kind nod of a survivor who had been there, done that and survived. Instead you remarked, loud enough to be heard, that when your children were young they knew how to behave.

I really wanted to scream out loud, LIAR. Your children were probably spoiled brats or bullies or the neighborhood menace. But I didn’t. Instead I mentally thought how great it was that Boo enunciated pop corn for the first time. I blocked your stare of condemnation. I ordered my own (second) glass of wine and planned on tipping our waitress well, really well.  

I promised myself that in 20 years when my children are grown and I am seated across a mother trying to do her best I will order her a glass of wine in your honor.

Finish the Sentence Friday

Tell me, how would you finish the sentence, What I really want to scream out loud….