Tender.
Tags:Ever have one of those days where you just feel a little too tender? Overly sensitive? Just waiting for someone to take you over the edge into a wave of tears?
I felt like that this morning.
It started off with six or seven packages that needed to go to the post office. One of the benefits of having Simon in school is that normally I could do it by myself - not put him through the misery of being in a place that is just different. But I needed to go, it needed to be done. And so we went. And the results were not pretty. In fact, it was horrible.
Piercing screams came directly from my child. He did not want to be confined. He did not want to stand next to me while the packages were weighed and paid for - he wanted to run - and then he wanted to lay on the middle of the cold floor where other post office go-ers could walk around him. And so he screamed. Not the kind of loud crying that you sometimes hear, but full on ear piercing screams that jar you into the present moment like nothing else.
And I am calm. And I am cool. I focus on the woman weighing my packages and focus on using a calming voice while holding Simon tight (but not too tight) in my arms. The challenge is that he is getting so big. And so strong. It is much more difficult to hold him now. I know people are staring. I know what they are thinking. And they continue to stare and then to whisper and nod to one another in thanksgiving when we finally exit.
And I feel tender.
We walk out to the car and he hugs me as I carry him. '"Love you" is what he says. I buckle him in and take a deep breath.
We have two more stops on our errand list. I am able to get him into the shopping cart basket at Micheal's - he has an OJ so that helps keep him occupied as I pick up some paint brushes and page protectors. I have a coffee. We exit without any major commotion and walk down to the grocery store.
While removing him from one cart and putting him into to another I spill the rest of my coffee right inside the store. Because I did not get him into the second cart quick enough he is off running towards the watermelons, oblivious to the coffee on the floor and the look in my eyes. I alert one of the checkers to the spilled coffee, gather Simon up into the cart, and continue on - walking by the flower section and wishing for tulips.
And I feel even more tender. And I take another deep breath.
We get what we need: soy pudding, vegan cheese, tostada shells, salsa, chicken nuggets & fish sticks without any allergens = $38. He stays in the cart. I pay the bill. He gets an elephant sticker & a gorilla sticker from the checker. We walk out to the car. I buckle him in. I take a deep breath.
We drive home in silence. It is almost always silent in the car.
And I feel tender.
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196 comments
Feel for you Ali....so been there! Those looks...I'd love to say to the stare bears walk a few steps in my shoes and I bet you'd never stare again. I love you says it all. Our special children are given to us for a reason. Stay strong
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These are the days when I love my son the most. Although, they are also the days where like you I need use more deep breathing than usual. How lucky Simon is to have you?
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Sorry - that shouldn't have been a question mark at the end of that statement. How lucky Simon is to have you (period!) :)
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I think you are an amazing woman. Tender is such a great word to describe your day. Sending special thoughts and tulips your way. You are an inspiration to me.
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Wow, what a day. Deep breaths! Prayers for a better day today. I can't imagine the stress you go through to meet all your deadlines. Deep Breaths.
The good news...kids start each day fresh.
Hope you have a fresh day today.
Jennifer
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Hugs and kisses to you Ali. I might have been one of those others wondering why his mother couldn't keep better control over her child. I will stop, I will pause, I will take the time to think and not judge, or jump to narrow minded conclusions. I'm sorry for your day, for Simon's confusion and unease, but I thank you for the wake-up call and the reality check and for the inspiration you give us - not as a life artist but as a GOOD MOTHER.
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You've got an amazing outlook on life, and you are an amazing woman! Sending a virtual hug your way {to ali}
And THANKS for sharing the link to that autism movie a while ago. I've watched it many times, and shared the link and information with friends, and am so appreciative to have just a tiny insight into the struggles that parents of autistic children go through, every day. I might previously have been one of those people who wondered why a mom couldn't control their child - and now I'll think twice. You are educating so many people in a positive way - thank you!
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((HUGS)) to you and to Simon. I love sharing your life and reading your blog and getting details of your life. Thanks so much for sharing.
Love ya!
Karmen
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Ali,
Thank you for sharing your life as a parent of a child with Autism. I am a Special Education Teacher in Arizona and have a much better view of what life is like at home with children with Autism. Autism is an epidemic and not enough people understand it, understand what triggers the children, nor do they understand how much energy, over and above parenting a normally functioning child, goes into parenting a child with this disability. Simon having his reaction to the post office isn't a tantrum like a reg. child throwing a fit...that's what people don't realize, especially since he's a beautiful little boy that looks normal. Thank you for sharing all that you do and thank you for helping to educate people about the little known world of autistic children. Thank you for helping me to be a better special educator.
Hugs,
Kristin
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Oh Ali, poor you! It helps, though, doesn't it, to know you're not alone, that all of us have days like that? Funny, I just posted a few days ago about a not-so-long-ago time in my life when I was having many days like that. Anyway, soo glad you're feeling better!!
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Ali,
As you know, this is my life too. I could have written this. We have had many days like this. But there are good days too. (hugs) to you. (hugs) to Simon. One step at a time. It is okay. :)
-Monica
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been there, done that.
After 15 YEARS of raising a child who is MR and Autistic, I have seen so much...I have learned a great deal. I have developed TEFLON skin. People can stare all they want. No amount of begging from me will cause people NOT to stare...People are most entertained/afraid/interested in what they don't understand....Oh how I hated the staring. It took me about 2 years not to burst into tears when someone would stare or make some comment under their breath...
My son is 18 now and it's still tough. It's easier in ways because he's older and I can reason with him (sometimes). He's bigger than me, and he he is much stronger than me.
There will be days that will make you cry and days that you will rejoice.
It all evens out, Ali.
And in the end, Simon will thrive. With you as his mom and stauchest advocate, he's destined for great things....
You're always in my prayers.
Suz
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I know those screams, those looks, and those tender moments all too well. May tomorrow bring and brighter day. You are such a great mama, Simon dude is SO very lucky to have you, SO very lucky.
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I know those screams, those looks, and those tender moments all too well. May tomorrow bring a brighter day. You are such a great mama, Simon dude is SO very lucky to have you, SO very lucky.
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Wow.
You took me back.
I will never forget two instances with my Jillian.
One was a parade (big mistake, big) she was fine for a little while and then...it was an explosion. She was hysterical and so over stimulated that touching her was impossible. I will never forget how people looked at her. How they looked at us. How I was struggling to stay composed when I really felt like screaming at everyone to just stop looking.
Second was a trip to the mall. Everything was fine. She was handling the new place well. She was handling the people well. Without warning she was finished. She screamed and she started panicking. She kicked off her shoes. She laid on the floor, in the middle of the mall, and cried. I couldn't touch her, she wouldn't let me. People stopped and they stared. One person stopped to help me..and I heard others muttering how I need to control my child.
Tender is the right word..you feel so exposed....
Jaime
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As a mom, when I'm somewhere and I hear/see a child screaming or throwing a tantrum, I always focus more on the mom. Because that has been me- tender is the right feeling for times like that. And I can say that my eyes are sometimes filled with tears, remembering the embarassment and frustration, coupled with heartbreaking love for the child responsible.
I know that my USPS has a kiosk in the lobby that is open 24/7, where you can weigh, purchase postage, and send packages and letters. And I think Kah-mei has the right idea- it may be worth the time and money to look into getting pickup for pkg at your house. Although for Simon, it may be better in the long run to take him to the post office when it isn't busy and he can look and absorb what he's able to. So the next time you have to be there it isn't as strange. I know a lot of the screaming stems from sensory overload, because it isn't a familiar place. LOL, and that's probably too long a post for you.
Thanks for your blog. It brightens my day.
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It appears I am having one of those days myself (although it's early, and there's still hope...). Thanks for giving me words to describe it when I have none.
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I read your posts all the time and that one just made me totally teary-eyed. I think we've all been there and at least I always remember being the girl who saw parent's in those situations before I had children and thought "My children will never do that". Now I just look at those simple unknowing people who are giving me the look I used to give and think "uh, yes you will". Hang in there! Melinda
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The daily experiences that bring each of us to that point may be different, but feeling tender... we ALL relate with you on this one, babe. BIG HUGS. Hope today is a better day!
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Hey Ali-I have read this post over and over. I am so inspired by how calm you remained in the situation. My children do not have special needs (other than the constant desire for my undivided attention)and yet there are times when I feel I have handled myself in a less than exemplary manner with them. You were magnificent. And Simon new it. He knew you understood him, and you got the both of you through it in the best way possible. I know you feel tender. You should also feel so proud.
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