Sparks and Butterflies… — Page 111 — But aside from that, she's still completely normal

Some ranting

October 31, 2007 By Michele Leave a Comment

A rant. Two rants.

One. When I complain about my children and parenting, do NOT tell me “Well, you had them! You don’t get to complain about it!”

Excuse me? So… When your transmission goes out, do I get to tell you “Well you bought the car! You don’t get to complain about it!” Or the house. Or taking care of your elderly parents? No. Of course not. So when this parenting gig gets tough, I’m gonna complain. ‘Cause I’m human. ‘Cause they’re human. And because I must vent before my wee little head pops straight off my body.

Two. When I complain about my children and parenting, do NOT tell me, “You actually have children, so don’t complain. Do you know how many infertiles there are out there who would kill for the children you’re complaining about?”

Um. Yeah. I do. I was one thanks. Got two up in heaven thanks. Their misfortune and pain (and trust me – their pain is extreme) and my complaints have absolutely nothing to do with each other. And guess what… They have their own complaints. Their infertility treatments, trying each each month, or the adoption process all have their very own issues, pain, complaints both large and small. And you know what? That has nothing to do with the problems I have in parenting.

The bottom line is this. I’m raising two kids with special needs. It’s hard. If I have to vent, and you have a problem with it? Go away. I’m not forcing you to be here. You see, there’s a limit. If you come here – I’m talking about ME. If I were to visit an infertile’s blog, I would NEVER complain about my kids in her comments. It’s just rude – ’cause I’m at HER place. The flip side, is I would never expect someone to come to MY blog and “complain” about how hard it is to get their child into the gifted program. ‘Cause then I might have to shove Joseph’s IEP up their ass. You see? My place.

So, now go to your own place and complain about me there.

hmph

October 31, 2007 By Michele Leave a Comment

Because I am apparently insane.

One Kind Act

October 31, 2007 By Michele Leave a Comment

When you’re a new parent, everything is hard. Harder than you expected it to be, really. Any outing turns into this awful undertaking of preparation. Binkies and bottles and diapers and burp rags and activities and extra clothes and snacks. Even if you plan for just an hour out. Especially then, because the veteran’s know… When you say, “I’m just going to hop out and be back in an hour – I don’t need all this stuff.” THAT is when the up the back into the hair diaper blow-out will occur.

New moms? Trust me on this one. Just ask how I know.

So, the kids were about 5 months, and 2 years respectively. I decided we were going to go Christmas shopping for daddy – otherwise I NEVER would have attempted this by myself. I went to a further away mall because it has this really cool indoor playground that Joseph could run around in. We had finished shopping, and I was letting him run around in the playground so I could feed Logan. I looked down to get Logan cleaned up around the mouth, looked up again and Joseph was gone. Just gone. So I grab Logan, snag the stroller and am wandering around yelling Joseph’s name. After a couple minutes, I found him. There was a car that they were giving away – some sweepstakes thing, and he was over at the car, all by himself, trying to get in. I ran over to him and was in the process of telling him to NEVEREVEREVEREVER leave me when we’re out. I start trying to pull Joseph away from the car, and he’s having NOTHING to do with that concept. So, now in one hand I’ve got a 2 year old screaming ’cause he can’t have what he wants, on the other hip I’ve got a 5 month old screaming ’cause he doesn’t know what’s going on. I’m dragging the frickin’ stroller with my foot. So you know what I did?

I sat down on the floor in the middle of the mall and started crying.

About that time, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looked up. An older woman just looked at me and said, “Honey, it gets better. I promise.” And then she just walked away.

My children are now 7 and 5. But I have never ever forgotten that woman. That act of kindness. No judgement. No attempts to “help.” Just a statement of something that gave me hope, when at that moment I had no hope.

I don’t remember how I got home, but I assume I got everyone calmed down, cleaned up, noses blown, and headed home. I don’t remember anything else about that day.

But one act of kindness made it all better.

This has been a CHBM collab