Man.
Right when you think you’re on Cloud Nine, life goes and brings you back down with quickness.
Baby boy had his evaluation on Monday with the Regional Center.
He scored between 13 and 18 months (he’s 2.5 years old aka 30 months).
That slapped me across the face so hard I nearly woke up in February!
The plus side to that is he already has his initial appointment set up for this Friday!
That’s super fast progression from assessment to starting services.
So I’m grateful for that, despite how much that offended me learning about him.
Then, I’m not sure what is in the water BUUUUUUTTTTT, Kennedy has been rough the last 2 evenings.
So rough that I thought for sure the police will show as she screams from the top of her lungs for just about an hour both Monday and Tuesday night.
Like the neighbors below us reported us for “stomping” 🙄
It’s only a matter of time before the sheriff department makes a visit, I swear.
I haven’t found the positive to Kennedy’s meltdowns yet, aside from it keeping me humble I suppose.
I thought life was really starting to get better.
Kids, man.
My biggest pride and my biggest embarrassment.
I am mortified when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs while people are just trying to enjoy their evening.
I’m fearful CPS or some other entity is going to come rip my children from me because one lousy neighbor says xyz about it.
I’m defeated knowing nothing I do or say or try to redirect with works even the slightest bit to bring her down in that moment.
Helpless.
That’s the right word for it.
Having a child with special needs is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure because I have ZERO control over her or her behaviors.
I can’t predict what’s next.
I can’t negotiate or reason with a full blown panic meltdown.
I can’t stop her from doing xyz because she’s her own little person and is going to do what she wants anyways.
I can’t help her 100% of the time.
It kills me inside.
Seeing your child suffer through their own choices is a kind of pain I don’t wish on anyone.
I wish I could take it from her.
I wish what I said or did made any sort of difference leading up to that peak emotional moment.
I wish I had the magic wand to make it all disappear.
I wish I could fix it for her.
But is she really broken to begin with?!
No.
It’s me.
I’m the problem.
It’s me.
I’m so bent on making sure we seem sane enough that I lose sight of supporting her.
I am so hung up on how we look that I forget how she feels.
I’m so weighed down by being the picture perfect family I forget to really hear her.
She is not easy to parent, but I’m also not a perfect parent.
It’s in those broken moments I really learn to work around.
During her meltdown, I left the room and started singing Phantom of the Opera through the kitchen.
I was swirling and twirling while singing “Masquerade! Painted faces on parade…”
Getting lost in the moment.
Imagining being Christine on Broadway like I did in my youth.
Kennedy came out screaming.
I kept singing to the other two kids, not paying her any mind.
She reached out her hands and I grabbed them.
Swirling and twirling around the kitchen with her while I sang another Phantom hit (“Past The Point of No Return”).
She started laughing and smiling and just being in the moment.
Once my broadway hit was over, we went about bedtime routine and called it a day.
Our disabilities did not take us out yesterday!
And I hope they never do.
If you’re struggling as a parent to cope with your children (neurodivergent or not), know that you are never alone.
Let the neighbors judge.
Let the tears flow.
Let your pain resonate.
Don’t stay quiet.
Push to do better at parenting tomorrow.
At the end of the day, people are going to think negatively about you anyways.
Even if you did everything right, they’ll complain about that too!
“Oh my gosh, did you see Ashleigh’s new blog?!
“How she calmed her daughter’s tantrum with show tunes and dancing?!
“Is she seriously trying to make us non singers look bad?!”
They will still complain even when there’s nothing to complain about.
So forget what they think.
I encourage you to try and find the positive in that overly stressful moment.
Probably won’t happen in that moment, but reflecting back.
Parenting is not for the weak and I’m proud of you for showing up even when you feel like giving up.
Until next time…
Comments