The Pre-Waiting Room Letter

Last night I stayed up and helped my husband whom is a LMSW, prepare a presentation on early childhood trauma, identifying the symptoms, behaviors and best practices in therapy to a class of social workers about to join the public health force.
Unfortunately he only has an hour.
I told him to lock em down with food and water and give em the rest of the month, and after the first hour I would drop the kids by, and give em all a little "hands on experience."
He didn't think I was very funny.

He has the rare insight of working in this field and parenting healing children.
Still their were times I was all “ UM NO, you can't say that.”
It was truly a labor of love and patience and moments of tears and frustration recognizing the struggles we continue to face and remembering behaviors that are long since gone that have snuck away so discretely we didn't notice.

I decided to write a form letter, in a parents voice for him to share.
One that gives parents and care providers like us a voice and consideration by the professional who’s office we are about to enter.
Feel free to use this, if it might help you in your brave, nail biting experiences of the dreaded waiting room.

Dear,
NEW therapist, counselor, pediatrician, or teacher, (health care professional)

              Whew, we are taking a big breath and a giant leap by walking into your office.

We are nervous, excited, exhausted and so very, very hopeful and feeling so incredibly vulnerable to be here meeting you.
You see, we need help, and new opportunity's for our child, ones we hope you can provide.

Your office is one of many we have sat outside of, nervous, hoping what I am about to tell you about my child’s special needs and behaviors are things you are familiar with, understand and well really will simply believe.
We have been in situations where this was not the case and truly increases the anxiety of seeking your, and others help.

We hope you can listen openly, know in the past I and this child has been met with disbelief and judgment, and that has been painfully hard and hindered healing for both of us.
You see we both have healing to do from the onslaught of pain that has overtaken both of our lives from the aftershocks of their trauma.

Nothing I share about my child is meant to shame or demonize them. Their trauma already has them believing the very worst about themselves. I am hoping in sharing their past and hurts and unhealthy coping behaviors you can aid in giving them more tools to combat their and even my pain in trying to parent them.

Some things I need you to know.
My child distrusts people who try to get close. In the beginning it is very possible very little truth will be told in most circumstances it is a coping mechanism for my child to control the information and if you ever have any questions about the validity of something my child has said, please, please ask me, I will do my best to not be defensive.

My experience has been as vast and unbelievable to most people familiar with neurotypical children.

Things as “normal” hiding the fact that they have spelling tests, to more manipulative behavior such as pretending they can't speak English in a classroom for week, to using another siblings trauma in therapy instead of sharing their own. Creativity does not run short.
Their need to constantly control their environment creates such barriers.
But they do feel safer with adults that hold them gently with truth and emotion regulation.

My child does not need a second parent.

Because of early trauma my child struggles with attachment at times and often sabotages their relationships with the ones they are closest too. Most often it is their primary care giver, and often my partner or other siblings and family members. They are masters at creating sympathies in strangers for more attention. I recognize the need for you and my child to have a working, trusting relationship, and absolutely support that, but ask you to recognize the importance of boundaries with them as to not to encourage emotional dependence on you.

My child also struggles socially with their peers. If you can help them in healthy ways look at creating those relationships that would be so helpful. Often my child is “ new parent shopping” and creating fantasies around a new home and parent situation. It is not rare to see my child on a playground and instead of engaging with the other children, seeking an adult to charm, please join me in redirecting the importance of age appropriate friendship. It has happened more than one that my sweetie has packed their bags ready to move in with their latest teacher, aid, therapist or playground monitor.

Please believe me as their caregiver. I can not express the pain, frustration and alienation that comes with parenting a child with so many special needs. At times the additive of doubt,blame or judgment to families like ours, magnifies the shame and pain for both me and my child.

Let me just say Thank you, once again, I know the responsibility to work with families like mine must be difficult, and I recognize your profession and education as such a benefit to what you can do for us and so many others.

We are so hopeful walking through these doors. Ready to put our faith in your ability. Grateful that you might be a step towards my/our child’s healing.
Please know we are available at any time and willing to do much to make this new relationship successful. Thank you so much for reading this letter.
I promise I am not quite as crazy as this letter makes me appear.
I am pretty darn normal, normal, and desperate, and hopeful.
Deep Breath, whew, here we go.

Sincerely,

A basket case of a Mom with all of the best intentions in the world.

P.S.

"I will bake you cookies if you can get my kid to stop peeing on everything, Peanut-butter balls if you can stop the lying. "



Dear ones,
I am curious,what more would you add to this letter, in hope to engage and help a new care provider understand your and your child's needs?

Shock Absorbers

When I was a Senior in high school and my younger brother a sophomore, we inherited our stepfathers old Rusty 1960 Ford Diesel truck. We dubbed it the “Green Monster” that thing could go anywhere, smash anything and survive with barely a dent. We once had a brush with a giant spider in the cab on our way to school, ending with my 6ft 2' brother screaming like a little girl, and a side swiped Beamer crumpled like silver paper.

The best and worst part about that truck was the shocks, there were none.
At times, while piling a bunch of kids in the cab and back it was considers fun as we hit bumps and rolled around smacking into each other getting a little air over speed bumps as our butts jumped inches off the seat.

However making out while in transit? While someone else was driving? Forget about it, you could lose a tooth, or end up with a bloody lip*cough * not that this every happened, ever, while my poor kid brother was driving, and I stained my fella of the months letter-man jacket.

Anyway, shock absorbers, kinda necessary,especially in a car, or you know “life”.

Good ole Wikipedia says “In general terms, shock absorbers help cushion vehicles on uneven roads. “
Part of the beauty of a shock absorber it the ability to gently rebound from the initial unsettling.

Huh.

What about people? What about parents that are helping hurt kids navigate uneven roads ,what then?
How do we gently rebound?

This has been incredibly hard week, that being an understatement.
One of my children has upped her shame resulting in creative new ways of self harm.
This road seems more than uneven, it is bumpy and twisting, without enough guard rails and feels damn right scary. I have cried, felt helpless, and been tossed and banged up along with the pain my child has been feeling.

Much like that old truck, I have been feeling every inch of the road, every giant rock, wind gust and uneven trench, many being so unexpected.
It happens to all of us, driving along perceiving the road and and pot holes along the way and then BAM, there is a speed bump in the middle of nowhere that takes out your undercarriage.
I happens to all of us, the shock of, “wow, maybe I should have seen that coming, but I didn't".

And so we sit, reeling from the shock, the whiplash of sadness and pain and surprise that leaves your stomach doing flip flops and your mind racing while your body feels it could sleep for one hundred years.
As parents , in preparation for these uneven roads, even if we can't construct bubble wrap protection around our children, or our hearts having a plan, having built in 'shock absorbers' seems necessary.
Hell, it is part of the survival and unwritten manual of parenting healing children. If we are able to be too easily knocked around and bruised during those pot holes or surprise speed bumps, how are we capable teach our children to create their own shock absorbing strategies?

So I ask you wise ones, What do you do for you? How can you find that steady ground of being O.K, even when things aren't?
What things help you cope? What things help you center when your kid side swipes a BMW....or self harms, or needs respite. What do you do when your child is kicked out of school, brought to the emergency room for a stomach pump, or stitches because their pain had to come out one way or another?

Today I went to yoga.
Today I sat and wrote this.
Tonight I plan on a warm bath and a funny movie.
Because tomorrow I may need that cushion of me being O.K. So I once again can be available to help my child navigate their uneven road, until it gets a little bit smoother down the way.

Hot Tea and Redirection

“How is a Raven like a writing desk?”
I remember watching the movie 'The Last Unicorn' as a kid, and wondering what the answer to this riddle was. And by the way? The old freaky lady that had the animal circus in that movie still gives me the full body shivers. FA-REAK-Y

So the other day, and today, and lets just toss in every day/waking hour of my life for the last four years I have needed to help a child of mine in a behavior adjustment or repair. It spans from basic, “lets not pick our nose and eat it” to “you really don't feel like burning the house down today, do you?”
Hey I like variety.
“It's the spice of life.”
er somthin.

One basic thing I am STILL learning is the dropping the suggestion, or recommendation for alternative behavior or thought is the 'leaving it in their lap to absorb/chew on/sit on/digest”....and WALKING AWAY...mostly the leaving it and walking away part.
Nope, I sometimes like to suggest, re suggest, AND THEN RE SUGGEST AGAIN ,add three more reasons for WHY my SUGGESTION is a GOOD ONE...and then sit and watch, and wait, and remind them to pick up the suggestion, and what to do with it...and REMIND them how to chew, and process...

to the point that I have bought myself a full scale battle with my kid.
Because sometimes I am awesome like that.
Because sometimes all of the time, I like to be right, and obeyed, and not have to wait.
NOTE: This never turns out well for me.

So how is Redirecting your kid like hot tea?

Just yesterday my child was “Doing their chores” , really this kid was slapping the broom down LOUDLY and scattering dirt. I was not feeling therapeutic, I was in desperate need of a snack and a nap and my blanky.

The come home had begun with a door slam and toss of coat and shoes and backpack in the middle of the floor (insert eye roll) and demand for a snack. Yeah, awesome.
I was NOT in the mood for Senorita Drama-pants.
I prompted with, “hey I am super excited to get your snack for you, as soon as your coat and school stuff is picked up and you finish up your sweeping that didn't get done this morning, when you were in a rush to get out the door.”

Insert Death GLARE,”I WAS NOT IN A RUSH THIS MORNING.”
Beginning the broom and floor abuse.

“Sweetness, if you are too tired to sweep the floor nicely you may go rest first, and after you have rested come back and pick up your things, sweep and then ...may have your snack.”

“I AM SWEEPING NICELY!!!”

Kablam, bam, bam...(the poor broom was loosing synthetic hair like a bad weave)

and here is where I blew it.

I walked over and tried to take the broom.
Yup.
I engaged in a stupid control battle, one that she had been vying for the second she walked though the door.
She gripped it hard, screaming “LET GO.”

So I stood there and started talking, about how if she would just use her tools, and what her tools were, and how we had American Idol tonight, and didn't she want to watch that..and kept on talking, while she yanked that dumb broom and I didn't let go, because, I WANTED her to LISTEN....
The situation began to escalate,and my child was now spitting angry.
I was doing it.
Trying to give her a recommendation, but then MAKING HER TAKE IT, trying to make her chew on what I was trying to tell her, standing there wanting her TO HURRY UP and LISTEN TO ME.
NOTE: It took me five minutes of broom dancing to realize, this was not working.

So I stopped.
I apologized for trying to take the broom, told her the tools and things she needed to do to get the snack and the repair she would need do for arguing, so that we could make her snack together, and then walked over, with my phone and tried to pretend I was lost in Facebook, I WALKED AWAY and left it with her.

She stood there glaring at me, trying to argue.
I sat there, kind eyes and just kept on nodding my head and agreeing with her...and finally after I am sure she contemplated throwing the broom through my head like a champion javelin Olympian, calmed and begun sweeping.
Before I knew it, the menagerie of school stuff was put away, and she was sitting at the table waiting for me to get her snack.

How are our kids like Tea, or a Fine Wine?

If you don't have patience, and let things simmer, cool and seep....
You will end up with a HOT unseasoned burn of blah or bitter Nastiness.

Trust me.
I totally burn myself with tea, and children regularly.
Just a little thought, and reminder mostly for me.

The difference between Letting go and Giving Up....

I owe myself an apology.
and possibly in turn you.

You see, there has been a mantra I have been selling to myself, a bar I have been holding myself to, a belief and expectation of myself that I have clung to.
Never, not for one moment would I expect any other person, mother or care provider to do this to, or expect it themselves, and yet, I stand here guilty.

I BELIEVED I had to do it ALL.
I believed that to be a good mom and to help my kids heal I HAD to do it a certain way, make it look and flow within my expectations of myself. What I forgot?
The variables, my children, what they might need, regardless of what I THOUGHT they might need, within my abilities to give it to them.
Because why?
It is MY job....
and, I am a bit of a moron.

In a world of humans struggling, fighting battles of love, finance, illness, business, politics, religion and much more, we say, "Never Give up", because failure in not an option.
Sacrifice is glorified, for the out come, and yes, sometimes that sacrifice is warranted, and all too often sacrifice is just  waste, wearing a sad cloak of self righteousness.

So I am de-cloaking a bit.

Good crap this is awkward.

I have these insanely AMAZING people in my life.
People that are raw and honest and on incredible journeys to heal their children, relationships and along the way heal themselves. They are so brave.
I sometimes push them to forgive and let go of things, do MORE self care, forgive them selves or others and move on, to lesson expectations.
I am SO good at gently advocating for these people I love, wanting them to see the amazingness that I see.
And five minutes later? There is no way I could take my own advice.
Because I suck at all of the above.
Like a lot.

Never Give Up?
welllll...it's kinda crap.

We all have to accomplish the art of letting go.
Weeks ago I stood in my Grandmothers ICU hospital room, with an aid of a ventilator she was being kept alive.
Hope was being sucked in deep gulps, desperate to erase the last three days that transformed someone that had been such a permanent fixture in our lives , into someone that might slip away, never to return.
Words like, "She's a fighter, she's a tough lady, she can pull though this."
Were shared as we willed her to wake up, begged with tear filled eyes at her still , yet breathing body to wake up.

As days passed new words replaced those most desperate sentences: "She wants to be with Grandpa" who passed before her. "She would never want to live in a hospital", "She isn't going to wake up and be who she was before, and that would be unfair."

It was time to let Grandma go.We didn't give up on her, we were more fair and more kind in what was best.

It think sometimes we get so stuck in the fight, we forget to pull our heads out of the sand trap,and look up and around for some other options, better options.
Sometimes those other options are not what you would want them to look like, some options are more a letting go.

While fighting an uphill battle, there is a natural need to hold onto your convictions, and faith that YOU can make things better with two very tight fists.
When doing the very hard and thankless sometimes that hope is all you cling to with a thread.
That tomorrow will be better...if I just stay on this road, this HARD thing will get better.
Often that is so very true.

Yet sometimes, it's simply not.
and that is where I owe myself the apology.

I am sorry I waited so long to look up and consider another path.
I am sorry perhaps through my actions and example I made anyone including myself believe that I could possibly have all of the answers or even some of them.
I am a student on this crazy twirling ball like the rest of you, just trying to figure crap out.

Sometimes as a parent or a partner, or a caregiver, you have to pull a new card.
You are not giving up, you are seeing things from a distance and recognizing the path you are on is the looonnnggg not necessarily best path to the inevitable.

Perhaps, this whole letting go is a good thing.
Perhaps this "Never Give up" needs to pertain to yourself, and not the situations and scenarios placed upon our backs. Somethings are meant to be shaken off, let go of, or even handed off.

Truth is , we can't, and shouldn't expect, or make ourselves to it all.
Truth is in this place we can waste the best parts of ourselves and others in the name of sacrifice.

Is there something, something you can let go of, celebrate defeat over, or switch up a path all in the name of Never Giving Up, but also Letting Go?

Monday, this homeschooling mother of nine?
She is packing lunches, and putting into place 1:1 aids and nurses for two of her chronically ill children, recognizing that this too, though not my original goal of what educating my children would look like. The goal? The outcome will still be the inevitable. They with lots of trouble shoots and energy needed much tweaking and long hard days, my children will receive the  education they are capable of. With me, yet with out my sacrifice.
Those are some weird pants for me to be trying on.

Earlier this week in a private message to my incredible friend Christine I wrote her this;

"But, honestly...we are better parents, because we see where our energy NEEDS to go, instead of throwing ourselves under every bus in the name of being a good mom...instead recognizing that damn bus is coming no matter what and getting out of the way..."


So in short.

Dear Lindsay,
Thank you for figuring out the difference between "Letting go" and "Giving up".
Thank you for pulling your head out.
Thank you for re tipping the scales with having more opportunities for better, though fewer interactions with your children.
Though it is scary, you are being smart.
Take less time being stubborn K ?

kisses,
Yourself

"What feeling bad is for" The country song version.

Do you ever feel like your life , or day, or week would make one kick @$$ country song?
Seriously, all this crap about broken hearts, keying cars, and being broke and these people don't even parent special needs kids?
I guess we can all chock it up to the grand “human experience”?


In the last couple of weeks, we have had a house flood (bathtub left on by a sick kid), food poisoning (hence the sick kid), car trouble ( one child purposely leaving an interior light on in the car consistently and frying the battery), oven fire,financial struggles.
Our pets head are falling off....
Well, not really , but our pug Penelope is very fortunate to be alive after her electric fence collars battery fell out, and she went chasing cars, and caught one, literally, with.her.face.

If that isn't fodder for one sad country song, I don't know what is.

Yesterday was another really rough go at church. As if finding 20 matching shoes isn't reason enough to not want to go, a struggling child sabotaging the morning and not being regulated enough to go to her own Sunday School class is just icing on a very large poo-cake.

Yesterday while seven other siblings were happily dropped off to class, one child didn't want to keep their clothes on, or walk, if breathing in and out had been optional, they wouldn't have done that either.

As they tried to claw and bite and we sat enjoying the fall breeze on the church stairs, beautiful echo's of “I hate you”, “ You are the worst Mom ever”, “My birth mom shouldn't have died, YOU SHOULD BE DEAD” carried whimsically on the fall wind, like the multi colored leaves floating by.
It's called frigin' imagery people.

Once calmed, we tried sitting in the foyer, hands being held.
Each time an attempt was made to causally pinch, or scratch me, I would kindly, but firmly say, “No, you may not hurt me.” This was said in front of other people in the Foyer. Consistently repeated, until the secrecy of their hurtful, sneaky behavior was no longer a secret, or something they wanted to continue to do.

Later that evening, there was a meltdown, a conglomerated interpretative dance and wailing of all things “feeling bad” related.

Once the demon was exercised, we had an opportunity to process some big feelings.
One of which was “Feeling bad, and so sorry for hurting mom, and fighting, and stealing the youngest's food and being mean.” Also the feeling of embarrassment was vocalized when Mom said, “You may not hurt me', telling there bad behavior secret.

I was gentle and explained, keeping hurting secrets, where one person is allowed to hurt another, is not safe for anyone, and in our home hurting secrets will not be kept. Not out of shame, out of safety.

A loud wail erupted as a volcano of  SHAME came tumbling through her lips.
“I feel bad that I hurt you, I feel bad that I was so mean today. I am a really bad, no good, rotten awful ugly kid that no one should like, I hate me, I wish I had never been born. You shouldn't love me, or be nice to me, because I ruin everything.”

And that is the shame folks, the everlasting seepage of how no matter what she feels unworthy, incapable of good, and destined to live up to her definition of herself.

It hurts my heart each time, to witness this much self hate in such a small fragile person.
Tiny humans hold more pain that we can understand possible.

And so we broke down “Feeling Bad” tore “feeling bads” face off and ripped it into little digestible shreds.

One of the myths our kids tell themselves is “I do bad things, I feel bad, because I AM UNDENIABLY TO THE CORE BAD.”
Man to feel that way about yourself all of the time, and anytime you mess up, trip up as humans do, it is a manifestation of what a screw up  you already believe yourself to be. Gez that has to suck.

I said to her, “Baby girl, I think I need to help you understand “Feeling Bad”, will you let me help you?”
She looked at me like I was retarded, she is sort of right, she does have a PHD on the subject.
However, she shook her head “yes”.

Sweetness, “Feeling Bad” is not wrong. “Feeling bad is a safety boundary built into our brains and bodies.”

Sniff,”It is?”

“Yes, just like if Mom warned you to be careful around a hot oven burner, and you still touched it and burned your hand. Would that make you a BAD KID or a HURT KID?”

“Both, bad, because I didn't listen and hurt, cuz burns hurt.”

'Sweetie, just because you didn't listen and got hurt, doesn't make you bad, it wouldn't be a great choice, because the consequence would be a hurt hand. But the next time the burner was on would you touch it?”

“No, cuz I got hurt.”

“Exactly, and that is how “Feeling Bad” is supposed to work in our brains. Feeling Bad, because we made some rough behavior choices is good, it is really telling your brain “EW this FEELS BAD, LETS NOT DO THIS AGAIN.”
That's it, that's what it is built for.
Not, “Because I touched the burner and didn't listen to my Mom, I am a really bad, no good, rotten awful ugly kid that no one should like." It is just there to help you not want to repeat the behavior over again.

She looked at me like I had three heads.
“Wait a minute, feeling bad, is good, like a Stop sign in my brain?................. but not when I let it make me feel bad about me, that's not what that feeling is for?”

“EXACTLY!
The burner was hot, and you should remember not to touch it again, because it hurt, that is ALL “I feel bad” is supposed to do to you. Really “I feel bad” is built into your brain to protect you, not beat you up on the inside. That beating up on the inside is called shame, and shame is a sick, dirty, mean cousin of 'Feeling Bad”. (Now if that isn't a song lyric)
Honey, big people that haven't had as much hard in their lives as you have, confuse what “Feeling Bad”is supposed to do, and invite shame in to beat them up all of the time. We are pretty lucky to know the difference, don't you think?”

A light clicked on, so tonight, when I am “feeling bad” about hurting you at church and throwing a fit, really it is my brain telling me, I don't want to do that again, not that I am a terrible kid?”

“Yes sweetheart, that is exactly what your brain was trying to tell you with the “I feel bad”.

A smile crept out on her face.

I think there were little fireworks going off in her brain, maybe the 'Annie' soundtrack background music of “The sun will come out tomorrow.”

"Honey this new tool isn't easy, you know the song 'Stop in the name of Love' ?With the  hand motions and everything that we sing?"

Giggle,"Yes".

"Well, sometimes you are going to feel bad for a choice, it happens to everyone, but now you know, you can ask that "feeling bad" thought what it is trying to protect you from doing again, and NOT let his cousin Shame, the one that tells you the mean lies about yourself in. And if that naughty cousin tries to show up and tell you mean lies about what kind of bad kid you are...SING THAT SONG, and remember what "feeling bad's" job really is, O.K.? "

"O.K. Mom, and Mom? I think I really needed to know this a long time ago, but I am glad you told me now."

"Me too sweetie, me too."

"STOP IN THE NAME OF LOVE, BEFORE YOU BREAK MY HEART, THINK IT ALL OVER,
THINK IT ALL OVER."

Note: Singing this song, with a country twang while jumping on the trampoline with tutu's, makes all the difference.

Think it all over.

Boobs and Brains #stigma

This week is Mental Heath Awareness week, as well as ADHD awareness month. October 10th, tomorrow is National Depression Screening Day.
Between having a husband that works in the Mental health field, and parenting live specimens. I have thought a lot in the last 4 years about the stigma awareness brings.

I have written about it.
Actively trying to normalize, honestly speaking about my and my children's challenges without shame, without fear, openly.

Last night I was bundled up watching the boob tube with my fella, kids all in bed, it was a 1940's drama, one of the characters recently returning from the war.
He was having delusional visions, flash backs and being triggered by fire works.
In the show they called it combat fatigue. Recommending a month of drug induced sleep so his brain could sleep.
GOOD CRAP doesn’t that sound delicious?
Really much of it was, they didn't know WHAT to do with these soldiers coming home broken, society didn't except them, and resources were nil to nothing. Almost 70 years later, are we doing much better?

More is known about trauma, ADHD, and mental illness, more medications, and therapy are available than ever before. But still the stigma clings to the not talking about it.

October is also Breast Cancer Awareness month. I see pictures of pink ribbons, reminders to self check my Bazzombas, commercials, hell even football players are wearing pink, and HOLY CRAP yeah, that is awesome! But my question is , when did it become more socially acceptable to talk about Boobies more than Brains?

I have amazing friends overcoming Breast Cancer. I see adorable pictures of kids holding up signs saying “last chemo treatment”. All make me cheer, my chest tighten with empathy and eyes burn with tears, because we are human and over coming suffering is something we all can relate with.

But when it comes to one of the most common obstacles? Depression, bi-polar disorder, anxiety, conduct disorders as a result to trauma, and ADHD? Very, very little.
There is still so much shame, and embarrassment attached.

My friends that have kids overcoming their last chemo treatments should be able to stomach their friends with kids who's wrists are healing from attempted suicide . They are the same. They are both frightening , possibly terminal issues. Hard is Hard.

Kids that break their legs and have adorable colorful casts posted on face-book, may never know the pain of the seven year old that wishes she could die, because she had a bad day and was called ugly at school, or worse, nothing happened and organically she just feels this way.

All of this has a voice.

Am I asking for you to walk a picket line? Wear a T-shirt that says “It's cool to be depressed” or post descriptive issues you are not comfortable on face-book ?

Nope.

Facebook post A:


"Math with Peanut-butter often looks like this. Begins with jumping up and down while answering questions, next he will sit on the stool, backwards, upside down...or stand on it , bending down to click on his answers.
Sometimes he needs laps around the house in between lessons.
Today he was standing on his head.
"Hey buddy whatcha doin?"

"Sometimes when I do math my brain falls into my butt, so I have to stand on my head to get it back to my head, thats a for reals problem mom, right? Does your brain ever fall into your butt?"

"All the time son, all of the time, and it is a for reals thing...just ask our Congress."
#ADHDhomeschoolin"

Facebook post B.
My son with a mood disorder was raging in his room and I posted this:
"Scooby is in his room, jumping on gis bed, trying to calm down listening to his Neil Diamond CD cranked all the way up, singing "Love Potion number 9", belting it.

You can't train that kind of awesomeness, it is magically in his bones.
#lovethatkid"

and my favorite:


Facebook post C:
"Rough night of low blood sugars and night terrors over here. (Weather changes do weird things)
Mable May ( our Saint Bernard puppy) came in with me at 2 a.m. and wouldn't leave his side to go back to her bed.
This is what I found at 5:30 a.m. after another blood sugar check.
#canyouhearmyheartexploding "
♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥♡♥


I am asking you to open your mind, actively not shudder, shy away from or think someone is over sharing when they talk about mental illness. Walk into the thought, turn it over and ask why it makes you feel uncomfortable, question and make peace with it. That is how we slowly change a Stigma, by asking the feelings questions.

How can pictures of breasts with pink ribbons (which I have not an issue in the world with) not be considered an over-share, yet someone saying they are feeling depressed, or worried about their Bi-polar daughter considered an over-share,and something that should be 'private'.

So for me this month...I am going to Actively and honestly share about our, ADHD, trauma, mood disorder, eating disorder, conduct disorder, depression, anxiety, mental health stuff....in real, beautifully messy ways.
That is how I am going to celebrate October.
Bring on the Boobies and Brains I say!

<3

Parenting Special Needs/ aka /The Water Park Analogy

This last weekend I went on a little jaunt to my old stomping grounds with three of my children.
It was a much needed break for all four of us.

One daily practice I try to do, regularly post on Facecrack Facebook, is 5 daily gratitude's, 6 or 7 on more “trying days” where I really need to hunt for the hopeful and good in my daily chaos.

 Last Friday night, after pediatrician visit complete with immunizations, a grueling chiropractor visit and a two hour drive complete with a yowling terrified kitten and a over tired tender legged 3 year old I landed at my friends home to open arms, free range fun for my kids, chocolate, and taco salad.

That night on F.B. Along with my gratitude’s I joked that;

“It's 10 o clock....do I know where my children are?
Nope.
GRADITUDES;
Old stompin grounds, surviving Peds appointments with shots, Just sittin', safe travels, carefree plans tomorrow, watching my oldest giggle with very much missed BFF's...did I mention I am JUST SITTING, AND I don't know where all my children are? “
#nightoff

I thought nothing of it and continued to enjoy my carefree night, in fact I think 2 out of the 3 munchkins ran, jumped and played themselves into a stupor and passed out/fell asleep around one a.m. In the morning.
Parenting vacation MAGIC people.

The next morning I had a message in my Facebook inbox.

“Hey Linds, I have a weird question for you. I love reading your Gratitude’s, and sometimes read your blog. I know your life is hectic, but I don't get how you consider having 3 kids STILL with you a “night off”? Are you nuts? My two are Kicking my butt. P.S. How do you manage to get away as often as you do, don't you feel guilty?
Love you gurl,
~A~”

I laughed, a little, sent her some love and thought about her message yesterday, not having the time to fully respond with all my mad thrifting skilz and poppn' tags rush for the 7 birthdays that are stalking me like jaws in the next 6 weeks. So I thought about her questions on my drive home this morning, thinking “Hey I'll send her a little note, trying to explain.

THEN I walked through my door, finally home after driving for two hours in construction, sandwiched between semi's I was met with screaming and crying, gnashing teeth, and keeling whale moans deep with in the bowels of our home.

Welcome home.
At least Mable our Saint Bernard was very happy to see me.

Five children rushed me, patting me down for gum and M&M's like a drug lord trying to get through customs.
I was told by a very dis-regulated child that they had been stung by a BEE while I was gone and it was all my fault.
BUT the bee sting had magically disappeared.
Three minutes later I was told that they also had the flu and threw up all night.
Yet were fine to eat the treat I had brought.
There was wailing, chronic tattling, a full report of urinating in bedrooms, bed wetting, food missing, toys broken and epic tantrums.
Yada,yada,yada...old news, smold mnews.

I was gone for less than 48 hours.


So THAT, Sweet “A”....that was what my break was from.
And that was when I started to think of a way to describe, what “getting away” really means to me, and so many other parents and caregivers that parent trauma, special needs and chronic illnesses.

How do you explain to a parent of neuro typical children how parenting a child with special needs is similar and also so very different?

Have you ever taken a busy, hyper, easily distracted eighteen month old to a water park?
The entire time you are hovering, making sure they don't face plant, fall into the deep end, get plowed into by older kids, eat floating band aids, keep well sun blocked, eat more than grapes and potato chips. You keep them from taking neighboring park dwellers food, toys, sunglasses and pulling your suit down to flash the un-expecting pre-teen boy that just got a free eye full, no worries the other end has a full wedgie, as you non nonchalantly try to reign in your Tasmanian devil that just splashed you in the face and you are pretty sure you lost your left contact . It is a given there will be at least one melt down over, being over hungry, tired, or as fate would have it you running to the bathroom and while in your partners care, your child indeed does the face plant and skins half of their nose and chin off.
If by chance your cool aide drunk, Cheetos stained, grubby, sweaty ball of energy does actually pass out, you sit and rest, knowing you can't really fall asleep, in case they wake with a second wind, so you lay there exhausted, with one eye open.
By the end of the day, you are glad you went, revel in the good moments and barely have the physical strength after bending over all day to get all of their gear into the car, and there is no emotional energy to even think about what you are going to wrestle up for dinner.
Eh, you have a freezer meal ready to go, or a go-to-easy-meal.
Ice Cream sounds like a divine reward for surviving the day.
You can all shower tomorrow the pool = bath, right?
Now in my case, time those toddlers by 6, and add three more semi self-sufficient kids in there for fun.

THAT IS A GOOD DAY parenting special needs kids.
It is rewarding fun, yet regardless, hard, busy, all consuming and takes every single inch of you and your attention.

On a bad day?
Turn that jovial 18 month old into a teething, colicky 3 month old baby that will only sleep in their bed with diarrhea and a double ear infection, at the water park, by yourself.
With a handful other 3 month old babies, a couple 18 month olds, and 3 semi-sufficient kids that want attention and think it is STUPID I brought the babies to the pool.

THAT IS A BAD DAY.

You buy fast-food on the way home...you get everyone in bed, some kids might be sleeping in their swimsuits... not that you care,they are asleep and no one is bleeding.

You eat that ice cream straight out of the container with a spoon, or gluten free pretzels as a utensil, mindlessly watching Parenthood reruns on Netflix until the bliss of numbness falls over you and realize, your 3 year old is asleep on your legs and you have to pee.
No worries the babies will need to eat every three to four hours anyway and have you up.

Now imagine doing that days in a row.
The good days and the bad.
That is kinda what I am talking about.

Taking 3 busy semi-sufficient kids anywhere, that I don't have to hover over, worry about boundaries, medical issues, tantrums, triggers, is a break. Not only for me, but for them too.

For me to sit and talk for hours, is bliss.
Listening to children play, minus control battles and needing to be in eye sight is a hyper-vigilant rest to a one eye open sleeping parent.

I love my children, every single one of them.
As they heal more and more, or gain tools that help them be more self sufficient, the more breaks for myself may be less and less needed.

But for now, I do need my mini vacations.

I believe in self care for all parents, absolutely.
Primary caregivers NEED breaks, primary caregivers to children with special needs, have to take care of themselves, have to find respite, have to find moments to shut both eyes or they will be no good in their daily tasks, they will burn out.

I never EVER want my wonderful friends of Neuro typical kids to feel slighted in the “I have it much worse than you arena”...HECK NO!!!
Parenting period is hard, no kid is really “normal” all have special needs to get them going, keep them safe and teach them what they need to know. I not for one moment want to lessen the Kick Ass job parents in general do, my goodness, you people BLOW my mind with the soccer games, and family trips, the teething and colic and TEENAGERS...

Keep on keeping on.
Chest bump. High five, fist-bump-explosion-thingy.

I just thought this might be a small way to explain to my rockin' fellow mama and friend “A”...what the small difference was in my idea of what a “break” looks like when parenting special needs. Honey, lets be honest, a trip to the Gyno, or getting a MRI is considered a mini vaca some days.

Next time it should be in Hawaii, minus any short people, fore realz.

Come on in for another chest bump and ...fist-bump-explosion-thingy.

Yeah boss.

Love you gurl,
Linds