The Parental Mirror

Years ago, when talking with my daughter's therapist, as I tried to be there for both my kids while supporting the family with a F/T job as my family and home broke painfully apart and crashed, I was given the best piece of advice.

"Your daughter needs to see you happy," she said. "She needs to see you making time with your friends and modeling positive social and coping strategies."

At the time I felt despair, like falling down a well. I was overwhelmed, unequipped, and isolated. I felt like the worst parent ever.

Then I tried even harder to catch myself first before hyper focusing on "finding a fix" for my kids.

I have gotten better with practice. I have realized this not only applies to my daughter, it also applies to James, who has a highly developed empathy with those around him. On the plus side, he models "good" behaviours if they are around him and he can, to an extent, read a room. On the stinker side, it gives him a fiendish ability to push peoples' buttons.

But I digress. Fewer years ago, I was talking frankly with my son's ABA supervisor, about the overall regressions and socially unacceptable behaviours that roared out in the face of a horrible 8th grade experience, second evacuation due to wildfires, and COVID-19 lock down. I was so desperate for help that despite trying to bubble myself so I could remain on call for my family members with already compromised immune systems and not lose any time at a severely unsympathetic job - I called ABA and told them I wanted to continue in-home services. Thankfully, it was the right call.

"Your son is begging you for attention," he said to me. "You do not realize how stressed you are and how that is affecting him. I know you have a huge load of responsibility, but your son NEEDS you." This set me on the track of thinking again about the Parental Mirror, as I like to think of it, and how important that was for my kids and myself. 

With this supervisor's urging, I was able to investigate IHSS and becoming my son's caregiver. A family friend, who also is an IHSS caregiver for her disabled son, urged me on further. I discovered that an IHSS staff person had misled me in thinking I could not be my son's paid caregiver (at 15 hours a week) if I also worked full-time. To make a long story short, I transitioned from working 40 hours a week at an increasingly stressful job and not being paid for caring for my son to being paid to care for my son (currently at 63 hours a week) and (all things considered) earning more take-home pay. 

I am SO much happier, and it shows in my son's reports from school and his overall demeanor. It has taken me a full year to stop feeling burned out and that I can do more besides caregiving for my son and start living my life again.

Everyone will tell you that, as a Special Needs Parent, you are crucial to your child's development and well-being.  Next time you're feeling stressed and downhearted, take a look at yourself in the Parental Mirror, and give yourself a boost, love, and encouragement - just as you would to your kids. It works, and you're worth it.

Epic Milestone and Celebration

 Christmas Self-Care Miracle

My guy used the bathroom, took a shower, and washed his hair all on his own un under an hour. 

This is a first of epic proportions. Especially in light of regressions that hit their lowest during COVID-19 lockdowns. 

So proud of my guy!

Thank you, all you ABA helpers and family supporters!

Fellow parents, you will never know until you keep trying. I've been there, down and out. Sending you all big hugs. It can get better.

And now I am taking him out for a drive and pizza.

Self Care Refocus

So, after a period of falling off the self care wagon, I am doing better at psyching myself up and mentally organizing getting James to practice more self care skills.

He's been really good about taking out garbage and getting himself ready for school (as in dressed and lunch made in time to meet the school bus).

Today we were able to hit a double header out of the park: Laundry and a bath. And when James punched the dryer bottom for the bottom dryer with his clothes in the top unit, he was able to come back upstairs to tell me right away and we fixed it together.

The bath water was warmer than usual - I think he needs warmer water to relax more in the bath. He seemed to appreciate it. He even stayed in a few minutes longer than the agreed-to 10 minutes of soaking. l think this bath broke a record for smoothness in operation and start to finish was very close to the 20 minutes I told him it was take (as opposed to a memorable bath that took about an hour just to get him sitting in the water in the tub. Amazing!).

I have secret hopes of hair washing tomorrow.

Multiple Personality Tasking

I have been saying for a while that I love pretty much everything I am doing in my life: being a mom, working full time at my current job, spending time with family for major life events, engaging with the public schools system, and finding out more about autism and thinking of ways to improve services and resources for those dealing with it.

What's stressing me the heck out is the constant need to be in multiple places at the same time. It's usually at least three. Sometimes it's all the above stuff, but mostly it's the mix of my life underneath: clean the house, focus on finances, single parenting, gratitude on the go, trying to find a place of my own in an area that has had a huge chunk of affordable housing destroyed in a fire, the need to slow down and exercise, legal issues tied to autism, chasing down services for my kids, trying to plan for the future, keeping the car running.

Then there's the me-me stuff: reading, making things (anything, from writing letters, to taking photos or making images for display, printmaking, cooking, and imagining), re-connecting with friends,  meditation. Grieving.

I am not just multi-tasking, I am multiple personality tasking. And I now need to add another thing: simplify what I can, because the weeks are blurring past and I am tired.

CSI Elementary: The Case of the Missing Underwear

The time: Last Thursday. The place: school campus. The call: More clean underwear mom, STAT.

I delivered the goods in a manilla envelope, clearly labeled, for delicacy's sake. The front desk took them. The aide confirms receipt. Since then: poof. They have disappeared. About half the underwear in his wardrobe is now gone. We have confirmed they are not hiding out at home. Hoping the name on the envelope helps locate it at school.

Otherwise, I need to go shopping. Maybe these will keep this from happening again?

They are even Hanes, his favourite brand.

Epilogue: The perps were nabbed at a relative's house.  Case closed! 

                *cue the electronic gavel sound*

Easter Mini Miracle

Easter this year is lower-key than in the past. I am working full-time, money is tight, and the kids are older. The Bunny still left baskets decorated and full of goodies and we are going to an egg hunt at the grandparents' later today with cousins.

James woke us with "It's not Easter yet?" at about 6:30 this morning, and then proceeded to snuggle with me in the big purple armchair for a good 20 minutes, happily wriggling and humming. He was more interested in using his iPad than Easter, but Big Sister encouraged him to get on the sofa so they could look through their baskets together.

After breakfast, we took showers and James had a bath. He asked to wash himself and then ... proceeded to start washing his hair on his own and asked me to cut his hair after.

Yes, yes, YES!!!!!

OMG, I am so excited. He's never done this before. I am still used to the screaming that accompanied getting hair wet and the mental fortitude required to get him into his bath and out again. To say nothing of the rodeo atmosphere of trying to trim James' hair as the thrashed, wriggled, bucked and whined, trying to escape the sensation of sharp pointy things near his ears (with his "No, no no!!!" ringing in my ears).

Now he is scrubbed and trimmed, proudly wearing his new Minion t-shirt and snacking on Minion cheese bites. He is also hugging his stuffed bunny and looks supremely happy.

Thank you, Easter! And I am so proud of my guy - he is growing up and showing initiative.