Fitting In

As we get older, we think that issues that plagued us as children and teenagers get easier.  We know that being part of the "in" crowd does not matter near as much as providing for our families and living lives of character.  But for so many people, fitting in remains important.

Having a child with special needs is lonely.  It means you never fit in.  No one (other than your spouse or partner), even another parent with a child with special needs, can completely understand your struggles.  It means going to birthday parties where you are surrounded by typically developing children and trying not to cry while watching them play games.  It means talking with other parents and feeling proud of their kids accomplishments and simultaneously sorry for yourself that you may never experience them with one of your kids.  And then feeling like a terrible person because you can't stop thinking about yourself and your issues long enough to be happy for someone else.

And I also don't feel like I did in with parents who have children with special needs.  Maybe it's simply because I don't want to fit with them.  Which is also terrible.  My sister recently suggested I find a support group while she and I were talking about my recent struggles, and I told her that I am so emotionally exhausted that I worry a support group will make it worse.  I want to be supportive of other parents living with their unique littles, but will I leave feeling more emotionally depleted hearing of their struggles?

And in the midst of everything, I feel like I have so much to be thankful for that I should not be so Eeoyre about my life.  What is that teaching my kids?

Please just know, friends, that I spend every second of every day conflicted.  I love you and your precious blessings.  I want to hear about their successes.  But a part of me remains selfish and feels sad.  And a smaller part of me than before remains hopeful that Bug will get there.  So please be patient with me.

Horses'll Get You

Bug has an affinity toward horses.  She has four hard plastic horses given to her by her grandparents, two brown, two gray (which she calls blue).  The last few days, she has been very focused on her gray horses.  She likes to hold two things at the same time, so it is one horse in each hand.

Things have been a little off in our world lately, and she has been stressed.  She is more emotional than normal and is acting out.  This morning, before Mister woke up, she spent about 20 minutes very upset, repeatedly saying "baby."  She had a new stuffed unicorn from a friend which she would give to me and say "baby."  I asked her to show me what she wanted, and I finally realized it was the gray horses.

Tonight, we were getting ready for bed, and she hit Mister with the horses.  He brushed it off - no big deal.  I was watching him to see it he was okay, and the next thing I knew, she threw them at my face.  She hit me so hard that I got a fat lip.  I took the horses and said she cannot have them back because she hurts people with them.  She was so sad, and I felt so badly for her, but my mouth really hurt.

I am sad that my almost 5 year old hurts me.  I am sad that she hurts her brother who lies down next to her and tells her he loves her.  And I am sad for her that she doesn't yet know how to control her emotions and her reactions to how she feels.  I am sad that she is sad and I cannot help her.  I think that may be one of the most difficult parts of having a child with special needs.  I want to help her, and sometimes, I just don't have the slightest inkling how.  And that feels like I fail.

Kisses

Before kids, I was that person who thought it was really strange when parents kissed their kids on the lips.  I cannot recall ever kissing my parents on the lips.  Then I had Bug.  And those beautiful, perfect, baby lips were about more than I could handle.  I literally wanted to kiss my gorgeous baby every second of every day.

When Mister arrived, it was no different.  To match his perfect little lips were perfect, round, chubby baby cheeks.  No joke.  Those cheeks were the roundest little cheeks you've ever seen.  And their skin!  How is anything that soft?

Mister has returned kisses for quite some time now.  I just look at him with pursed lips, and I am rewarded with a sweet little kiss from my boy.  And I just cannot get enough of it.  

My sweet Bug blows kisses.  She makes a kissy face, says "mwah," and sometimes puts her hand up to her mouth to send the kiss sailing over to you.

Except last night.  Last night, Jeremy and I had the (lately) rare opportunity to put the kids to bed together.  He was holding Bug, and she said, "Mama."  I went over to her, and she wrapped her tiny little arms around Jeremy and me, grinned her breathtakingly perfect little smile, and said "Family." (Sorry, grammar police - it deserves caps.)  Then, she proceeded to kiss me, at least four times.  Most of the kisses were me kissing her chin, and her kissing right above my mouth, but I will take it.  

I have goosebumps even now thinking about it.  Something so small as a kiss, and it will fill my heart for the rest of forever - thinking about the first time my funny, sweet, kind, sunshiney little girl kissed me and really seemed to realize what she was doing and why.  Thank you, God, for the gift.

Moments That Make My Heart Burst

From conversations I've had, I seem to be one of the few parents (at least among my friends) who is enamored with the newborn baby phase.  Often, I hear, "I do better when they can communicate with me."  I would argue that newborns communicate just fine, with eye contact, cries, snuggles, etc.  There is something for me about feeling the weight of the incredible gift and responsibility bestowed upon me is more than enough.

As my kids have gotten older, they clearly prefer their daddy.  And my heart hurts at little moments throughout the day because of it.  I am the parent they see much less frequently due to my job, and while that is a contributing factor, I am also less fun.  I have to remind myself that the laundry can wait, and it is okay if the house looks a mess.  My husband is more carefree than I am, and he helps me keep things in perspective.  Even still, there are lots of moments where I can't help but feel that I am the black sheep and my kids would not so much care if I was around or not.  Then there are those moments that make my heart burst.  Those times that something so beautiful happens that I can hardly contain my joy.  Here are my top ten heart bursting moments.

10.  I remain the go-to after injuries.  It is heart-breaking that they are in pain, but it is heart-bursting that they turn to me for comfort.

9.  The first voicemail I received after starting work back in the office this summer (I worked from home before that), where Bug said "Hi Ma," and Mister said "Love you.  Miss you."  It will be saved forever.

8.  Bug's face lighting up when she sees us, even now every day when I get home from work.  There is nothing more breathtaking than her face.  She radiates light.

7.  Mister being so thrilled to play in the snow that numerous times, he proclaims, "I'm excited!"  Doesn't sound like much?  The look on his face to match was more than I could handle.  I would have given him anything he wanted in that moment.

6.  Bug's sad face (particularly when she is embarrassed).  In those moments, I think to myself, "how can I love a person this much?"  I would do whatever it takes to make it better.

5.  Mister singing Happy Birthday and giving you what he deems a cake (usually a toy of some sort).  Daily.  Sometimes numerous times a day.

4.  Bug hitting Mister, me telling her to apologize and give him a hug, and Mister (while crying) leaning in for a hug and telling Bug "I love you so much."  As if he did something wrong.

3. Bug's hugs around my leg.  Usually accompanied by her saying "Aww, Mommy."

2.  Their laughter.  Every.  Single.  Time.  It could be the secret to world peace.

1.  Mister has a lovey called Blue Blanket.  It is so loved that Santa brought him a new one this year.  However, new Blue Blanket doesn't hold a candle to old Blue Blanket.  Mister bumped his head yesterday, and old Blue Blanket was in the dryer (it was darn near standing on its own).  This was, of course, a tragedy.  The rest of the day was trying, to say the least.  Then, at bedtime, Mister said to me, "Good job washing my Blue Blanket, Mommy.  Thank you for washing my Blue Blanket."  That'll last me awhile...

I would love to hear your heart-bursting moments!!  Please feel free to leave a comment!

My due...

Anyone who was less than perfect as a child (and really, who was perfect as a child?) has heard from their parents that they will get their due when they have their own kids.  My family likes to share all kinds of lovely stories about me: cracking my head on a metal door frame after climbing on an unsteady decorative table, drinking my sister's perfume, eating poison berries from a neighbor's plant, climbing up on the counter (using the drawers as stairs) to eat a cake my mom made for a baby shower, and lying.  I mean, lying all the time as a young child.  Lying to get my older sister in trouble and keep myself out of it.  Telling my best friend's mom that my mom told me I could come over, only for my mom to call 2 minutes later, frantic, because she could not find me (they only lived next door).  I was not an easy child, to say the least.

We have challenges with Bug, but they are very different.  I didn't quite appreciate what my parents went through with me until Mister came along.  He is in the full throes of the terrible twos, and oooh boy...  This past Memorial Day weekend, the kids and I were getting ready to drive 5 hours for my best friend's wedding shower, but Jeremy (my husband) wasn't able to join us.  He pulled the lawn mower out of the shed to mow after we left, and while we were loading the car, Mister managed to disconnect the gas hose.  Bug loves liquids, so she was reveling in the gasoline puddle on the ground - I have no clue how that is appealing.  After a very vigorous bath, a drink of water, crackers, and a call to poison control, I ran down to put their gas clothes in the washer.  Upon returning to the living room, I see Jeremy pulling something out of Mister's mouth.  Come to find out, while I was distracted with the gas clothes, Mister got into my purse, opened the childproof lid of the ibuprofen bottle (mind you he was not even 2), and ate a couple.  Another call to poison control, I learned just how many ibuprofen my child could safely ingest before a trip to the ER was necessary.  And when I laughingly asked if the nurse was going to call DCFS on me, she answered, "oh, honey - it's just one of those days."  Amen, sister.

Fast forward to last week while visiting my in-laws for Christmas (we'll gloss over when he ate a poison berry this summer; who says there's no such thing as karma?).  Mister has been much preferring Daddy lately, and when it was time for bed one night, he was in full-on tantrum mode.  Lots of crying, screaming, and "I want Daddys" later, Daddy went in to try and calm him.  I stood outside the room and listened to Mister say, "Mommy is mean to me.  [Muddled words - wait for it...]  Mommy doesn't want me to be happy."  WHAT??  Who is this kid?  So, Jeremy gets him to calm down, and he comes out of the room.  The part I missed?  The muddled words?  "Mommy slapped me."  Now if you know me well, you know I am of the non-spanking camp.  There is literally zero chance I slapped Mister.  This kid already has such a strong personality, and he knows how to get what he wants.

Oof, we are in for it!  What can I say?  It's my due!  I turned out relatively normal, so I guess it could be worse.  :)