The Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Mother

We were the same height, but she left me feeling as though she was staring down her nose at me. 

“Tsk. Not a thing wrong with that boy. You worked at that hospital so long all you do is look for trouble. You look till you find it. That’s what you do. He’s fine. He’s just a little boy. That’s all.”

My inner mother shriveled up, and second guessing began. Surely my mom knew more than I did. Was she right? Did my background in working with profoundly disturbed children lead me to imagine things that were not there?

I was used to other people looking at me with that, “Nothing wrong with that kid but his mamma,” look. Hearing the same sentiment erupt from my own mother’s mouth was more than I could take.

My blonde-headed stick of dynamite perplexed me as much as he delighted me.

Lazy, Hazy Perfect Parenthood Dreams

I envied moms that nursed in public as if it came second nature. My hyper-alert baby couldn’t stay latched on for whipping around to see what was going on near him. Imagine a hungry-cranky baby who can’t stay latched on? I barely left the house for the eight months I nursed.

They say sleep when the baby sleeps. If you’ve uttered the phrase, you presumed the baby sleeps. What about a mom so frazzled by a wakeful baby she can’t calm down to sleep before her barely napping napper awakens?

My hazy, lazy dreams of motherhood evaporated the first time I cranked the crib mobile. My six-week-old baby did not coo and wiggle in delight.

Memories of his blood curdling scream still raise the hairs on my head twenty-two years later. The vigor of his startle response lifted him completely off the sheets. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be, was it?

Doting Grandparents

By the time mom and I faced off, I had seen my own frustration and puzzlement mirrored in the eyes of church nursery workers, medical office staff, and pre-K teachers.

Most often it seemed to be quiet frustration with me. “If she’d just calm down, he’d be fine.” The eyes said it all.

I enrolled him in a gymnastics class thinking he’d burn off energy. I bounced into the gym invigorated from my little bit of breathing space. 

I came to an abrupt halt.There it was. The frazzled, harried coach (whose eyes were gunning for me) was coming my way. “How can a three-year-old kid fail gymnastics?” I wondered.

Treasures of Times Gone By

“Have you had him screened for ADHD?” she prefaced her let-the-mom-down-easy speech as she began to tell me he might not be "right for the program". 

My clinician’s investigatory mode kicked in even as the mourning began. I stood mourning the realization that my beautiful, inquisitive, bouncy preschooler was not really welcome in the class anymore. I mourned the loss of that hour of freedom a week.

I stood back and watched knowing it was my last chance to observe and figure out what was happening. The class lined up to jump into a pit off foam much like the ball pit at fast food play grounds.

While the other kids ran up and flew into the air with abandon, my little fella crept up to the edge. He stood watching as if the pit were full of poisonous snakes.

Future Photographer in Training

Finally, he sat down and ever so slowly edged into the foam pit. I’m sure it only took a few minutes. At the time, it seemed like hours and hours.

Rather than going over and applauding his bravery, the teacher/coach gave him an impatient prompt to clear the area for the next kid in line.

My little gymnastics failure no longer merited her curiosity or attention. She had decided he was someone else’s problem: the doctor with the medicine that would cure him of his disruptive presence.

Not long after, he jumped into the car after his K-3 class. The teacher locked eyes with me, and I saw it again. The look: “Don’t tell me I’m gonna be saddled with this kid all year . . . .”

From his car seat, his little voice rang in my ears, “Today! I bite somebody!”

World Traveling Photographer

Now, my mother’s words mixed and mingled with all these other words until my head was filled with a terrible dance of noise.

“What kind of horrible mother am I? I was such a good teacher. Why am I such a failure as a mother?” I cried inside.

I had no idea I was dealing with sensory processing issues, apraxia, dysgraphia, and would eventually hear the words “Asperger’s Syndrome”. The years of discovery were long and lonely.

Oh, fraidy cat. I remember the pain, confusion, doubt, despair as if it were yesterday and not nineteen years ago. 

Courtesy B. Creasy - 2010

Are you there now? Are you wondering if you will always be the shell-shocked shell of a mother you feel you are right now? 

Walk with me a while? Let’s get through this wonderful, terrible, amazing, scary thing called parenthood together?  God is still writing our story, but it seems the time has come to share the early parts with you. See you soon? 

Psalm 139:16 (NLT)
You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.

Part 1 of this series: A Homeschooling Not So Fairy Tale

Part 2 of this series: He's Bright But Confusing - Sound Familiar?

Kamikaze Parenting – Setting Me Up For the Fall

Courtesy and in Loving Memory of Christina Jones Hooker

You know it had to happen. I just as good as told you so. One of the reasons I choked at the idea of this series came to fruition right on cue. Were you waiting for it?

“Mostly, I was afraid I'd shoot my mouth off one night to wake up the next morning and find out my kid had publicly humiliated me for life. In technicolor.”

I woke up this morning breathing a little easier, feeling pretty good (but not smug) about what I'd written last night. Maybe there was even a glimmer of hope that I might get thru unscathed at least till the weekend? Yea. Uh-huh. Right. I did until just after lunch time.

I arrived to pick up Son #2 from art class only to catch a glimpse of the teacher's face. I hasten to add that, for folks who do not have a similarly situated immediate family member, coping with an Aspie can be a little daunting. It can be acutely so if the Aspie is a little on edge because life has been on the edge the last few weeks or so. You are beginning to see what's coming, aren't you? My technicolor humiliation.

Courtesy M. Horrocks

My son had not been running with scissors, but he and a friend had tried to occupy the same spot at the same time. His friend ended up with a layer of skin scraped off his elbow. It looked like the granddaddy of all friction burns only a little deeper. Not that big. No stitches or butterfly bandage required. Just lots of mea culpa's and worries about infection until the wound closes over.

My sweet friend and her son were calm, collected, and conciliatory. Son #2 was awkward in communicating his ownership of the situation and failed to satisfy the teacher when he did so. The teacher's drama background failed to serve her well in concealing what appeared to be exasperation.

All I could think was, “This will never end. There is always going to be something for my courageous Aspie fellas that defines them as 'different'. I should NEVER have written that blog post last night. Who am I to be writing about parenting or faith or anything else for that matter.” 

 

*Be prepared to be humble and to set a humble example for your children. Be prepared to do so ad nauseum.

I might not be an expert on much, but I'm in the ball park on that one, let me tell ya. If you think about it, that principle stems directly from Phillipians 2: 3 (ESV) – Do nothing from rivalry or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. You can add in a dash of Proverbs 15: 1 (ESV) – A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.

A few years ago,a neighbor kid unloaded an Airsoft gun at dogs on the other side of our fence. Neither of our sons owned one of those 'toys', but I knew the neighbor had been over to play that day. So, when the dogs' owner came over with a Ziploc bag of the bb ammunition, the neighbor, whom I had not met before, didn't have to tell me anything.

I looked at him and said, “You don't have to say a word. Give us a few minutes. My son will write a note of apology. My husband will bring him over to deliver it.” The young man who owned and shot the gun was NEVER compelled to apologize for his actions. We wanted our son to understand that if he was at the 'scene of the crime and did nothing to intervene' it is called 'guilt by association'.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

My 3 testosterone units will tell you, that I abhor car horns. They are used way too often these days to get your attention so that a frustrated driver can indict you for your vehicular sins. Many a road rage accident starts with a horn. My crew will tell you that my reaction to erratic driving is almost always: “That may be an older person or a newcomer who is disoriented and needs to get their bearings. It might be a young mom distracted by a sick, crying child. More frighteningly, it might be someone under the influence of a drug or alcohol. Do not blow the horn unless we are in imminent danger.”

In these examples, I hope to teach my sons what it means to live out the verses from Phillipians and Proverbs. You only have to read the paper to realize that less and less attention is given to teaching our kids about humility or putting the needs and welfare of others before their own. By contrast, we spend too much time worrying about the stability of their self-esteem without realizing that in caring for others, we learn to esteem ourselves in proper proportion.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

Slowly, slowly we stir the pot of parenthood. Parenting requires sacrificial time beyond caring for the minimal basic needs and then running scatteratically from one event to the other. Punt some of the urgent stuff in favor of the important down time a family needs to allow deep and true connections. Take that freed up time to teach your children how their value stems from the Creator who designed them with a unique purpose in mind. Teach them to say what they mean and keep their word. Teach them to honor the boundaries and property of others. Demonstrate grace and humility in the midst of embarrassment when life hands you moments of technicolor humiliation.

Well, after today's fiasco, I'm sure you are dying to come back tomorrow to see what kind of crow I get to eat then, aren't you? ;-) Come on back, fraidy cat. Bring a friend. It's gonna take a village to get me thru this, and I'm looking at YOU when I say that!

Courtesy B. Creasy

 Missed part of this series? Catch up with these links:

Part ONE

Part TWO

Part THREE

Part FOUR

The Gentle Art of Kamikaze Parenting

Courtesy D. Scott

I don't even know where to start. Last week was a gauntlet with no visible end. I lived thru it. That's about all I can say. One day my Facebook status read: “I think I'll call in sick...do you think I'll get away with it?” The next day it read: “Forget a sick day, where do I go to resign?”

We all knew it was a joke. I wasn't going anywhere except the closet of social media. I hate to say it out loud, but sometimes I don't need pharmacological help. Facebook is more numbing than any meds would be! Yea, it's true. I shoot up with Facebook and try to forget my primary job in this season of life: parent and HOMESCHOOLING parent at that. It works for about 10 minutes, but reality always comes back to haunt me.

I know I am not alone in my struggles. A friend and I spent some time together last night. Like me, she is worn and weary because of a multiplicity of stressors: finances, 3 kids with unique health issues, homeschooling grades K5, 2^nd, and 7^th grades in the same year, caring for aging relatives, and on and on the list went. Dark circles punctuated her eyes indicating how bone-weary she is.

Courtesy B. Creasy

If we'd been out in the country, I might have feared the coyotes were about to lunge since I'm sure our vulnerability would have screamed, “Separate me from the herd! I'm ready to be eaten!” Thankfully, the lights of the city held them at bay, and we were safe to laugh out our mutual fatigue and relentless journey toward better parenthood.

I'm telling you, it is a fraidy cat world. If we don't stick together, the coyotes are waiting at the door. It is not our tough old hide they want. They want our kids! I am thankful for friends that get me thru when I don't want to keep at it anymore.

This past week, I realized that some habits we developed after I broke my leg had to go. I would have broken us of them many months ago, but chaos followed crisis after crisis until it was easier to embrace them and let them flourish unimpeded. And so, they did until I began to prepare Son #2 for the world of work and driving in anticipation of his birthday this summer. When I realized his 9^th grade school year was ½ over, my sense of urgency grew more compelling. My time with him is running out.

2007

When I coupled his life stage with my desire to prepare for an empty nest by developing a speaking and writing career, I knew it was time to kiss old habits goodbye. I should have warned you to buy stock in sedatives.....cause between the 2 of us, we were going to need 'a few', I feared!

I took some steps to our new and improved, more orderly life. My husband changed some of our computer settings which limited Son #2's access to the internet to certain hours of the day. As you might imagine, that step was a ROARING success, especially when he found out the limitations included any technological gizmo that afforded him internet access.

I tightened up the reigns on our use of time. Kids with ADD, ADHD, and Aspergers can have real struggles with an elastic sense of time. Given the flexibility of our days as homeschoolers, I have been content to work around that issue and concentrate on other battles – till last week.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

As I explained it to Son #2, he is on the cusp of being able to get a part-time job. Thus, the time has come for him to focus on accomplishing tasks in a timely manner or expect consequences. I gave him 4 days to ease into a new routine. I was about as successful as I would have been had I tried to push a cooked pasta noodle through a keyhole. It was enough to make me crazy. And, he knew what he was doing.

He had me sized up pretty well...thinking if he dilly-dallied long enough, I'd work around him like I always have. I quietly disabused him of that notion when he least expected it on day 5. We have a monthly extra-curricular event that he looks forward to with much excitement. Friday came and with it his expectation that we would set off for the event as usual.

Courtesy Mad Penguin Creative

The night before, I explained how our new routine would apply. Friday morning I set it in motion. He did as I expected and meandered thru the morning despite my gentle and ongoing reminders of our new system. Well after our time goal had expired, he came and indicated he was ready to move on to what I had requested.

He realized I was not ready to head out the door and began to panic. I looked up quietly from my work and said, “Oh, we are not going. Unless and until you begin to do what I ask you to do the 1^st time I ask, we won't be going anywhere in the near future.”

I then endured about 20 minutes of raw emotion as he mourned his folly and begged for 2^nd chances. I told him he'd had 4 days of those. He asked, “Help me! How can I calm myself down and get back to work?”

I replied, “I surely don't know. I hope you figure that one out. Let me know when you do.” To my amazement, the drama stopped almost on a dime, and he settled down to the tasks at hand.

I wondered how this week would go. Would I again have to assert my steadfast conviction that our new schedule is here to stay? I am thrilled to say that, so far, I have not. He asks each night what the schedule for the next day will be. When I set it in motion with the morning light, he is on board without much complaint. We are not running at 100% yet, but we have improved 1,000% over last week.

I have learned a few things about myself this last week. Why don't you come back tomorrow, and I'll tell you some secrets! Maybe I can keep you from making the same mistakes and having to learn the hard way like I have! Love you long and strong. See you soon! 

 

Galatians 6:  (NASB)

Let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we do not grow weary.

Fear and Loathing in the 'Hood

This story was originally posted in June of 2011. There is an amazing and nourishing update as of the winter of 2012. Be sure and click the link at the end of this article. You'll be glad you did.

Hi. My name is Carol Anne. I'm a fraidy cat. It's been about 16 seconds since my last gut-gnawing moment of fear.  If there is a 12-step program for fear, I'd like to know.  I can't find the wagon much less climb on board.

The day has cooled as evening storms abated. The neighborhood kids are out playing hide and seek. Even the 15-16 year olds. Mine is not.  I mourn his isolation and ostracism every moment of the day.  All I ever wanted was to live in a neighborhood with kids. We finally found one. Within 3 months, he went from being an outdoor kid to one who went months on end without leaving the house. It wasn't worth the payoff.

My stomach is in knots fearing the moment he realizes they are out and about. He's had a good day. His yearbook team gathered for an end of the year ice cream sundae party. I wish that were enough. But, he's a kid who wants to be with other kids every chance he gets.  What kid isn't?

Courtesy T. Parker

Most likely, he will saddle up and try once again to find a way to connect with kids who have demeaned and bullied him till he is beside himself.

He is still optimistic and hopes again today that they might be different. Because, some days they are. You can never figure out which day they will tolerate him and which day they will torment him and run him off.

He's told them he has Asperger's and just doesn't think like them.  Of course, that only gave them more ammo with which to torment him.  Even the kids on the street who have siblings with  far more complicated diagnoses than he has have no empathy.

The sadness and anger are enough to break me.  He was a twin.  I wonder why God kept his sibling and prevented my 14YO from having even that sense of belonging.

When I know he is headed out that door into the path of his tormentors, I sometimes feel like I need a crash cart loaded and ready to go because I am about to drop from the weight of wondering how it will go today.  It drains my energy and my hope.

What a difference 2 years make.

A neighbor has opined that we 'shelter him' by homeschooling.  Funny thing, in our homeschool community, he is appreciated and accepted and safe.  No one has ever bullied him no matter if the function included 5 or 100.

When I approached her about her son's role as a bully, she yanked him into the house while tersely assuring him that he was not in any trouble. Then, she spent twenty minutes telling me why it was my fault that my son is bullied. Who is sheltering whom, I wondered.

My Aspie and I have changed. He is no longer the happy go lucky outdoor kid he was.  He is sad and depressed. He has bouts of anger. He has gotten mouthy.  He has learned to react with hostility to protect himself.  He has begun to search the internet for answers to why he is different and how to cope.

I'm no longer the friendly outgoing person who could make friends at the dentist or grocery store. Oh, I still make friends in unlikely places like that.  It's just in my own 'hood that I've become a different person. I no longer look to see who is passing, so I can throw up a hand and share a smile as they drive by.  I no longer look for ways to extend the wave and smile to a concrete get acquainted conversation. 

The home I looked forward to moving into has become a prison as I sit and map out ways to escape to other 'hoods and friends.

Courtesy B. Creasy - 1010

I'm afraid of who he will be because of this life experience. I am afraid he has lost the person he was in the process of becoming when we moved here. I tell myself we will both be stronger and more empathetic. And yet, tonight I don't  feel more like either one.

My name is Carol Anne. I am a fraidy cat.  Your fear might have a different name or set of experiences. All the same, I'm willing to bet that you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Psalm 139:14 (NIV) I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 

To read the update, click and read:  Redemption and Forgiveness Pt. 1

A Fraidy Cat Says There's a New Sherrif in Town...

I'm still thinking on how much fear reminds me of ivy!  What about you?  I'm thinking about the tools I need to rip it out and kill the roots.Tonight, it seems like a journey too arduous to tackle. It feels like fear has won. Today has been a fearsome day.

My husband gets a little sicker every day.  No one can figure out why.  He finally has an infectious disease consult on the calendar next month. Before that, he has surgery to look forward to. One doctor thinks he might have a rare form of a neurological disorder.  No one really knows. I feel the pressure of needing to develop a writing business by next week this time in case he gets too sick to work....or worse yet, dies. He missed a good chance 2 wks ago.  If we'd have been a little longer finding him, I'm not sure he'd still be here. I've hit the ground running, but going from 0-60 at my age is a herculean feat. I'm not sure I can run fast enough to beat what's ahead for him.

I'm worried that my almost 14 YO Aspie son is in some measure of emotional, spiritual, and even physical danger because of bullying. I'm concerned that parents don't talk to each other the way they did when I was his age.  So, trying to approach the ones involved is not an option. At least not a friendly, helpful one.

I'm afraid that starting this blog was about the dumbest idea I've ever had, that you will grow bored with me, and that you will make a solemn oath in the mirror to tell your friends about the Pioneer Woman instead of me! I'm worried I'm not funny enough, or spiritual enough, or insightful enough, or instructive enough  to keep you coming back for more. I'm afraid to go to the monthly breakfast the local writer's group has scheduled for tomorrow morning.  I'm sure they will see the word 'loser' tattooed on my forehead. I'm afraid I'm not really a writer no matter what they say.

I'm afraid my boys will marry and move on to be closer to their wives' families instead of being close to us. I'm worried about growing older.  I'm worried that my husband and I will never have the marriage we could have had because of his family history of abuse. I'm afraid he will never be free of that specter of abuse.

 I'm afraid God loves you more than he loves me. There. I said it. 

As you can tell, my life is full of ivy! The way I figure it, the world we live in cultivates ivy. Kudzu grows up to 8 ft a day in the summer.  I'm thinking fear can grow at triple that rate.  Osama's dead, but fear didn't die with him. The stock market is back up, but the price of gas is up too.  They say unemployment is down, but I bet you know at least 1 person for whom that has made no difference. The world was supposed to end yesterday. It didn't, but now some people will worry that the Mayans called the right date for the end of the world instead.

It doesn't really matter if the fear you fight comes from within or without. The results are the same. Carry it around long enough, and you become less of who you were supposed to be. You might do like I did for so many years. You put on your Sunday go to meeting face and convince the rest of the world that you have your act together. In some cases, so together that people wish they were you.

I think that is why I have such a love/hate relationship with Ree, the Pioneer Woman, Drummond.  Her blog life is what I call the 'picturesque implication of a stress free environment'. I think that's why so many of us are so captivated by her blog. She is probably not afraid of anything and probably has nothing to be afraid of! I wonder.....truth be known, behind her mask, she is probably a fraidy cat too. 

And so, I sit here tonight in the quiet of my home making a conscious decision to get up tomorrow and hack at the ivy of my life one more day. I will bask in the glow of other writers in various stages of their development.  I will contact this week's blog guest.  Here's a hint: she survived septic shock but lost her fingers and legs in the process.  I'm guessing she has a thing or two to share that will make the fraidy cats in my closet shiver in their timbers and start to pack. Whether they believe it or not, there is a new sheriff in town, and their days are numbered!

Come back tomorrow and bring a friend. I am so completely humbled that, here at the end of my 1st week of blogging, I have almost reached my 1 mo goal of 1K hits. Thank you for that from the bottom of my heart. Till we meet again, consider this encouragement:

Deuteronomy 31:6 - Be strong and courageous. do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.

A Fraidy Cat Hits the Wall

Today, I hit the post-writer's conference wall. I woke up sure that I have bitten off more than I can chew. My life seems much too complicated for me to devote enough time to the process it takes to be a 'real' writer. I am overwhelmed before I can get off to a good start. And the sands of fear keep collecting.

I'm afraid I won't be able to build a writing business fast enough. I'm afraid my husband will die before I can support my 13YO and myself and get my 20YO thru college. I'm afraid you won't keep coming back to read my blog or recommend it to others. I'm afraid you'll think I am too spiritual or not spiritual enough. I'm afraid the day-to-day realities of life will drain me of the energy and resolve I found at the conference last week. It is enough to make my head hurt...and it is!

What is a fraidy cat to do? Besides whine on blog paper and hope you'll come read about it? I have decided to get out the shovel and dig at this mound of sandy fear again. This junk is like sand at the beach. It gets in crevices you don't even know you have until you are rubbed raw! Fear rubs you raw. You know that, don't you?

I'm going to think about the interview I did yesterday and begin to frame it for tomorrow's blog entry. I'm going clean 4 rooms and cook a meal. My Apsie kid had an Asperger's Day every minute of our schooling time today,. I'm exhausted before I've even had a chance to think about my big, fat new life as a professional writer! But, I'm going to have a business meeting w/ my older son so that we can continue to work on our business plan.

I don't want to do any of this today. I want to curl up in this chair and take a nap that lasts till tomorrow and start over again then.  How 'bout you? What is your paralyzing fear today? Are you at the bottom of a sandy, fear-filled hour glass wondering if you can take another breath much less grab a shovel and dig?

Well, don't just lay there! Start moving! I'm not gonna make all this effort alone am I? It is quiet and lonely out here in cyberspace! Don't leave me out here all alone. Leave a note and tell me that you came by. Tell me about a fear you chased away! Tell a friend about our little community! (Humor me here. I did say “little”!) Link my blog to your f/b wall. Spread the word because, the way I hear it, the world is full of fraidy cats. I just happen to be the one that will talk about it!

Tomorrow, I'm going to introduce you to my friend, Dana. I met her at Startbucks yesterday thinking I was going to talk to her about her journey to adoption and all the fears she navigated during that process. Before I knew it, we were talking about an entirely different set of fears that were much more daunting. They say everyone has a story. I found out she has two!