Earlier today I had to pick up Noah from preschool about half an hour early to go to therapy, specifically, a social skills/speech dyad.
He was upset to leave school before "goodbye circle" and as his face trembled and he blinked back tears, I knelt in front of him and promised that he could go all day tomorrow. STAB. I ushered him, reluctantly, out the door, rushed him to the car, buckled him in and began the 25 minute drive. In the car, he told me he was tired and wanted to go home. I promised him one hour of play at therapy and then home for dinner and relaxing and whatever he wanted to do. STAB.
Mallory, my 3 year old daughter, fell asleep in the car and I had to wake her up and carry her into the building. And she was pantsless. STAB.
I must backup and mention that before we even left the house to pick up Noah at school, Mallory, (ahem, my 3 year old), and I had what can only be described as a brain bending argument, the kind I recall having with my own mother when I was 13, not 3. She wanted a wardrobe change and I disagreed but then she insisted and I offered a new dress and then she wanted tights instead of pants and now were late to get Noah and NOT THOSE TIGHTS, and I yelled and felt awful and finally, put her in the car, sans clothing on the bottom half, promising to dress her when we got out of the car. I kept telling her hurry up, that she wasn't allowed to make Noah late and even as I was saying this and hoping we wouldn't be late for the the pricey therapy, I was hating myself for putting that worry on her. Now as I type that, I swear to God I can never say that again, I don't want her growing up feeling any more responsible for him than she might already. STAB. MOTHERING FAIL.
When we got to therapy, he playfully hide behind me and refused to go with his therapist and "friend". I had to piggyback him into the room and then dart out.
It was in this moment, as I sunk awkwardly into the leather loveseat that I thought, "sheesh, I am wholly unqualified to be running this website, I can't even get through a day without yelling at my kid, my NT kid, upsetting my Autistic kid, and feeling like a gigantic whopping failure" .... and then I realized,
Wait, I am exactly the right person to run this website because I am human, and normal, and I'm willing to stand up and announce this, publicly, (don't throw tomatoes at me, they stain).
I very firmly believe that if we all admit our vulnerablilities we wouldn't feel so insecure and inferior around each other because we would all know that we are human and we have the same feelings and problems. I think we all feel inadequate sometimes. I think we all yell at our kids sometimes. I like to admit my imperfections, because, while I can make a
mean crafty poster for teacher appreciation week, I, too, have my weak moments where the stress and fatigue get the best of me and I yell, or let my kids watch a few (or, 10) episodes of Wonder Pets.
I felt guilty for having to drag Mallory around to Noah's therapy, hurrying her here and there, I felt guilty for taking Noah out of school, a class he loves, a class that has embraced him and allowed him to grow beyond my wildest dreams. Then I questioned my choice of therapy,
does he really need this? Is this too much? How much therapy and shlepping should I put him through? Will my good intentions back fire?
I did apologize to Mallory in the car, telling her I was sorry for yelling. I explained that she shouldn't wear tights with a shirt, but that rationale was lost because she is, three years old. I spent time cuddling with Noah before bed, talking and playing Candy Crush together.
The kids probably won't remember any of this tomorrow but I will still question my decision to do so much therapy, worry that I did the right therapy, and wring my hands over my 3-going-on-13 year old. I promised myself I would try harder to be calmer, plan more transition time before leaving the house for my three year old to properly primp and perfect herself, constantly reevaluate how much therapy I'm taking Noah to, continue to explain and bargain and talk openly with him about his therapy and school. And, to just try again tomorrow.
::
Three years ago today,
I wrote this.
