Holland

Yesterday I said, "No!" I said this a lot to the kids. Sometimes I'd whisper it, for dramatic effect. Sometimes I'd raise my voice. Sometimes I'd use ASL and sign it. Sometimes I'd sign it and say it, or sign it and yell it. Sometimes I'd simply mouth it out of pure exhaustion, unable to muster up the energy to get any sound out. On occasion I said, "We don't do that," which is just another way of saying "no," but I've read it won't emotionally damage your children as much as saying "no" can. And then when I was really fed up, I'd just lie on the ground face down and listen to the whining on surround sound. Each child in one ear screaming, "MOMMMYYYYYY!!!" ....This is what happens when you're stuck in the house all day waiting for the a/c to be installed. And who am I kidding? Sometimes, this happens for absolutely no feasible reason.

My point is, parenting aint easy some days. And lately I'm a magnet for those parents out there who just need to vent. The journalist in me loves this. Having the opportunity to pry into one's emotions and life without coming across as rude is pretty fantastic. It seems like every parent, no matter how different, has the same doubts and worries about raising kids. A lovely mother at Taylor's gymnastics class is a prime example of this. She corners me almost every week to share her concerns about her kids. She asks me about mine, just to double check that what's happening in her house is normal, as if that's some sort of terrific gage! Pah! She's reminded me several times that the first 5 years of life are the most imperative. She said, "My oldest is 4, so I only have one more year to get it right!" She wasn't joking either. She was totally serious about squeezing as much love and learning as possible into one year. As if once her son is five, his character will have been permanently cemented into his being. That's a lot of pressure to put on yourself as a parent. And I don't know about you, but I don't remember the first five years of my life. I doubt her kids will remember that they were in gymnastics, music and Latin before they went to Kindergarten (exaggerating on the Latin, but she's looking into teaching them a second language. I suggested ASL since it's SILENT, and we all need a little more of that in our homes).

At the same gymnastics class is another mother with twins, a four year old girl and a boy. The boy is autistic. I watch this mother with total awe every Thursday. Yesterday her son was having a tough day because he didn't like his new shoes. Mind you, he had already taken them off but he was still pretty upset. With as much patience as Mother Theresa, this mom did all she could to soothe him and comfort him. I'm sure she has her moments too, but I've never seen her look even the slightest bit agitated. So every Thursday I watch and learn from her. Hoping a little of her patience will rub off on me, and hoping I'll remember her example on the days when I'm feeling like, "This is NOT what I signed up for!" Because we ALL have those days, which is what I've been telling those lovely mothers who ask me for advice. It's the only advice I feel qualified to give.
I found this on another blog (mommyconfessions.com) regarding the same topic. I love it! It applies to both parents of children with and without disabilities. Enjoy!:

"Welcome to Holland"
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared the unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel.It's like this....When you're going to have a baby it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, " Welcome to Holland.""Holland?!", you say, "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around ... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills ... and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy ... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away ... because the loss of that dream is a very, very significant loss. But ... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.-Emily Pearl Kingsley--