The beach is my happy place.

It is not Bridget’s. Yes, I can get her there, but she wants to leave as soon as possible. Between this trait and her not enjoying M&Ms, I sometimes question if she is really my child.

Then she cracks a sarcastic one-liner, and yup there is the proof!

With everything going on lately, some have asked how I keep a positive attitude (full disclosure, it is not always sunshine and glitter over here) and/or I hear “I don’t know how you do it”.

Here is the thing, I don’t have a choice. I rechecked the hospital records and there is not only a non-return policy, but apparently children also don’t come with warranties. This may have been helpful information prior to deciding to have children. It’s like a super-secret detail no one tells you when you are young and want to start a family.

My advice to anyone who is overwhelmed by whatever crisis their child is facing is to find small snippets of “me time”. I know, it is not easy. It’s not like you can just escape for a weekend getaway with your spouse. You can’t afford to even go to dinner because it will cost you not only the cost of dinner, but at least $100 in childcare costs if you are gone more than a few hours. That is even if you can find someone you trust to care for your child. We do not qualify for respite care (well, Bridget qualified for 1.25 hours per week–not worth the paperwork!).

The times I miss my eldest child the most is when I want to run to the grocery store and it’s raining. Kidding, I miss her all the time! But those moments that I took for granted when she was here and I could go for a walk with my husband are probably when I realize how lucky we were when she lived at home.

This is how I carve out a few minutes each week (I wish each day!) to just refresh and check out for bit.

When the pharmacy says Bridget’s prescription will be ready in about an hour, I send this text to my husband:

When driving home from work, I take the long way. I added 15 minutes to my commute. I listen to a podcast or the radio. Sometimes rapping along to Enimem if you are ever next to me in traffic, don’t judge my throwing hands. Sometimes rocking out to Adele or Toby Keith. I take those extra 15 minutes to transition from “work Kerri” to “mom Kerri”.

On the nights my husband works, I put Bridget to bed at 7p and watch the Real Trashwives and realize while yes, this life is difficult, it is not as dramatic as whatever crisis a Trashwife is facing this episode.

I put my earbuds in to drown out the sound of whatever video snippet Bridget is watching on repeat as I escape into a book.

I sleep in on the weekends. I get up at 6am, give Bridget her medication and then escape back to bed until 9am. Yes, I can hear her on the monitor on those mornings she does not go back to sleep. But I am not up and facing whatever she going to challenge me on today.

These are all small moments, I know. I know my typical friends with typical children try to understand when Bridget has to attend whatever they have invited me to. They also understand that when I say I cannot attend. There are days I really wish that Bridget was the typical 16-year-old, that my husband and I could escape for a weekend to remember why we’ve been together almost 30 years. That I didn’t have to bow out of invites or have my sidekick with me.

Thankfully those moments don’t happen too often. Because after I take the long way home, this beautiful girl is waiting for me on the front porch.

And that makes every accomodation for her worth it.