I received a text from Bridget’s teacher the other day. She was asking if something happened at home she should be aware. Bridget had been crying off and on all morning. They had never experienced this behavior before.
Dear Teacher and/or Educational Support Personnel,
You do a wonderful job of caring for our children. You nurture them. You hold a parent’s expectations in check. You challenge the child and keep the parents honest. Yet sometimes in your quest to be empathetic to our families, your kindness becomes a falsehood. Especially for parents whose child has a special need. You try to understand how difficult our life can be. You want us to focus on the positives, the milestones that are achieved and the goals that are finally captured.
A parent walks into the store, dragging her child kicking and screaming as other shoppers look on. A sibling walks into the store and says, “next time I will babysit so you can try to get the shopping done”.
A parent answers, “What time is it” for the 500th time with patience that is waning. A sibling tries to redirect the looping by distracting them with Disney Jr.
A parent tells her other child that they cannot attend the school play, because their sibling cannot handle the lights and sounds. A sibling whispers they understand while their heart is breaking. Continue reading →
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.
The Individualized Education Plan (IEP)—the meeting every parent looks forward to attending. Um, not exactly. I dread the IEP meeting; I am never sure what I should be asking versus what I need to be fighting for Bridget to receive. The IEP process is so involved. From the beginning of the process I get tripped up. It starts with what seems to be an innocent question: my input for our vision statement. Do you realize how difficult it is to come up with a vision statement for your child’s education? Try the exercise. Think to yourself: the vision statement for my child’s education experience it would include…
We have all been there. You go to Back to School night and see the PTA table and quickly run past. Do not make eye contact you say to yourself. You don’t have time. You are not one of “them”. Those stay at home moms who cannot just let their kid go to school and be independent. You maybe go to one or two events a year. You may feel guilty enough to pay the $10 membership fee. You want to support the kids so you write the check grateful you got out easy.
Words I never thought I would utter. But truly, I am thankful for the GAP. Ellen at Love that Max posted a picture on Facebook of the latest GAP add. Giving them a shout out for including a girl with cerebral palsy.
I had to blow up the add to the full-view to find her.