I’ve been waiting on myself to begin. I knew it was time to get back to this and I knew it was time for a shift. I shut down the old blog, bought a new name, and created a new site. A new chapter. But how to begin, Becca, how to start. The pressure. Y’all are like,...
My mom died on April 1, just a little over two weeks ago. I don’t know which cliché to use – does it feel like yesterday or years? Both, I guess. My mom was a young 74 and did all the healthy things – the exercising, the kale, the vitamins, the check-ups. I look like...
Well, it had to come. Some of you readers have been with me for a while now. You’ve read these random blogs and followed along on Facebook as Jax came home from China, was diagnosed with all the things, and proceeded to grow up into a teenage boy. He’s gone from...
So we’re homeschooling over here. It’s going really well, I’d say. We have great people, Jax’s anxiety is at an all-time low, he’s happy, he’s inquisitive, and importantly, he’s learning things that are relevant to his 14 year-old-life and skills he’ll use for his...
I have sucked as a parent lately. Truth. 'Tis the season for holiday lights and wrapping paper and for mom to be a stressed out asshole. That should be a Christmas carol. “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the waaayyyyy. My mom’s annoyed at everyone, please bring...
Dear Jax,It's Gotcha Day, little dude. We adopted you eleven years ago today. I love this day, but this year's celebration is bittersweet. Your grandmother died on Friday night. Your dad's mom, Grandma Mary. This year's Gotcha Day will be a little less inflatable...
Johnny made it to his Army base on Monday. Other moms are messaging me tips to survive boot camp, linking me to Facebook groups, introducing me to people who can show me the ropes. It's lovely, but I’m in a different sort of situation. “Hi Martha with your...
A day or two ago, Jax had an appointment with a psychiatrist. Jax has never met this man before, but I have, and I like him a lot. He regurgitates mountains of stuff from memory, has a Harvard degree, and is smart, smart, smart. All good stuff when you’re a mom...
Johnny, I've been down at the Capitol this past week fighting for a bill that would expedite the adoption of older kids. I'm pretty invested in it because you and I went through this. We had nine months to make your adoption happen, and had I not already had a giant...
And I quote: "And after fourteen years of foster care, Johnny was getting all As and Bs in school, happily helping around the house, had checking and savings accounts, and looking for his first job - all within just a few months of being adopted into a family. "...
I've spent the last few days outlining an open letter to the person who hurt Jax. A real doozy of a piece, cleverly called "Dear Person Who Hurt My Child." I was going to write and publish it this morning, throw it all out there and let the internet lovelies react to...
The adult who hurt my son will not be charged. I'm a lawyer. I get it. There are no witnesses, no physical evidence, and Jax ...well, Jax isn't the best witness. At 13, Jax still believes that Noelle the Naughty Elf stole my car keys and tried to take my...
I am a Helicopter Mom. No shame here, no self-deprecating humor, there is really no other option for this child tornado of mine. Maybe helicopter isn't the right word, I think I'm more like the car with the flashing lights that travels behind the Wide Load truck on...
I was coming out of an Ace Hardware the other day - feeling super handy, I might add - and on the way to my car, I saw a woman standing by a table raising money. It was a legit 100-gazillion degrees in Phoenix and I was entirely prepared to do the polite smile...
I was sick this week. Throwing up throughout the night, curled up in fetal position at the base of the toilet, not sure how clean the bath mat is, I do not even care, I will never eat blue cheese in a salad again, SICK. Being sick as an adult is lousy. Being sick as a...
Dear Johnny, I know this isn't where you thought you would be at age 17. Still in the foster system, a day pass on your birthday, preparing to be shuffled around again, and then again and again. I know. As a child, you must have thought ahead to 17 and pictured your...
Last week, a family asked about adopting my foster son, Johnny. A family. Adoption. This was a big deal for a sixteen year old foster kid who moved in with me last month because he had nowhere else to go and had every intention of aging out of the system as an orphan....
I had a moment recently. My son, Jax, and I had been in the car running errands for a few hours. I was singing along to the Beatles channel when Jax said, "Mom, I'm hungry." Well, yeah, breakfast was a hurried cup of yogurt three hours ago so that's reasonable....
A teenage boy is coming to live with me. Today. In eight hours, I will be an official foster parent. It's been only a few months, but I have notes upon notes about my short experience so far with this child welfare system of ours. I can't wrap my head around how we...
Last week, I was in my favorite place in the world with my 15-person family. Every few years, we head to a ranch in the mountains of Colorado. We've been going here since I was a little girl, and there is truly no place I would rather be. I told my clients I was out,...
I volunteered to go to an education meeting last week with a foster kid. This kid was in high school and not too interested in me at first. I didn't blame him, I'd never met him before and this was a child who lives in a constantly-changing world with...
It was late-September of 2008 when we brought my son home from China, just two months before December and our sparkly, over-the-top, American-style Christmas season. My little boy had no idea what Christmas was. He had no idea who Santa was. Hell,...
This time of year, man. It’s stressful and chaotic and my annual intention of providing a Pinterest-perfect Christmas lasts about a day and a half until I decide that F-bombs will definitely help me assemble the gingerbread house. Ahhh, December. This year, the...
Jax’s eighth Gotcha Day is coming up. “Gotcha Day” is the anniversary of Jax’s adoption from China. It’s the day Jax became our son, and like good adoptive parents, we celebrate. Jax gets a few presents, we decorate, we eat pizza and cake, we participate in general...
I was at a Ross the other day. I love Ross. There is one by my son's school, and on the days I don't feel like laptopping at Starbucks, I walk around in their exceptional summer air conditioning while having riveting conversations with myself about my need for their...
Like I do every morning, I dropped off Jax at school today. They have it down. You enter from the north, pull around to the back doors, school staff meet you at your car, “Bye, Have a Rockstar Day, Love you,” and off you drive out the west entrance. The whole thing is a few minutes tops.
Today, we waited. In front of me was a nice German car (because autism doesn’t discriminate) and a father leaning into the backseat. It was clear after a few minutes that this kid wasn’t going anywhere. A male teacher came out to help, and together, they got the visibly uncooperative student out of the car and headed to the school doors. This was a big kid. He probably wasn’t more than ten years old, but he was the size of an adult.
About halfway there, the student turned to run. The teacher held him, but with the struggle, they ended up on the ground. Another male staff member came right out, and between the two of them, the kiddo got to his feet and walked inside. You could tell these teachers had done this before, weren’t rattled at all, and just chalked it up to another day at school. To an objective observer, this was a perfect demonstration of “what to do with a struggling ASD student.” Textbook.
But I wasn’t an objective observer. I was sitting in my car with my 8 year old son and I felt like I was watching the future unfold. If the kid in front of me hadn’t been at school, hadn’t been in a safe place where everyone understands autism, he would have appeared dangerous. People would have been scared.
This, my friends, is the fear. This is the constant pressure, the race against time that hangs out on my shoulders every second of every day. Jax’s progress is an upward graph, for sure. Eye contact and conversational skills and short-term memory are all on the rise. These are great things.
But we’re not touching his inability to regulate his emotions. We aren’t even close.
The truth? My kid – my cute, sweet, singing, dancing, truck-loving kid who is the first person to run up and hug you if you’re sad or hurt – hits, kicks, swears like a sailor, runs away and fights like a tornado when he’s frustrated or angry. I’m not talking play fighting, you guys. It’s not for show.
Right now, you just pick him up and deposit him elsewhere while he calms down, but this stops being an option a few pounds from now. I need to reach my kid. I need to find a solution or, at the very least, a band-aid for his anxiety and I need to do it yesterday. I’m in a race against time and I am losing.
Dad walked back to his car and looked back at the line of parents waiting to drop off their children. I waved. I don’t know if he saw me and it doesn’t matter because I waved for me, not for him. “It’s ok. It’s all good. Here in this line, we get it. God, do we get it.” I waved to show him that I wasn’t scared of his son.
Because if this is us in a year or two, I’m really going to need someone to wave.
Sincerely,
Becca
(Published on Scary Mommy)
Damn it woman you made me cry. We had a time where my son couldn’t regulate his emotions well, some days it was really hard, he is a big kid, impossible to pick up and move. What we did was talk. Even though he was non verbal at the time I talked to him. I saw the stress coming I saw it happening and I talked to him. What I do is, 1st I use a low calm voice, I try and figure out what made him upset, I address it, give those feelings validation (it is okay to be -Insert emotion here-) then I give him a way to deal with the emotion, options that are acceptable for the situation. We can do ______. like go home, take a few minutes in another room, breathe, do this or that activity instead, and when all else fails I wrap him in my arms and cry with him until he feels better.
You will find what works, keep at it, pay attention you are an amazing mom and you can do this!
Thanks for sharing this. It is a tremendous lesson for us all. I will wave back to you for your empathy and care. All the best, BTG
<3
Hugs hon, we may not be right there but we are with you. You’re not alone. Thank you for writing this telling us we’re not alone either. Many hugs
Waving and smiling and crying all at once!
When you posted this months ago, I read the first few lines & stopped. I was afraid to read the rest. Why you ask? Because I am that parent, the one who’s lost the race with time. Drew is now 17, & although he has made leaps & bounds over so much. The rage still breaks through from time to time. Even with medication & continual therapy sometimes whatever is going on inside that beautiful mind pushes through & manifastates in a rage of thermonuclear proportions. Drew out weighs me by 100 pounds now & he is scary superhero strong & I can no longer just pick him & deposit him in a safe place & what you described is some days a day in my life, I’m that parent, (in a nice German SUV) who has the child that it might take 3 or 4 teachers to get safely inside. Time you caught me, but I, like my son will keep fighting you every inch of the way!
It’s catching us, too. Time is a bitch. But we’ve got some fight in us yet. oxox.