(Photo is of a Cabana I wish I was in, right now, in Fiji with my cabana boy Matthew sipping Pina-Colada’s)
I don’t know why I have such a hard time with my girl. Maybe I am just supposed to be having a hard time with my girl. She is after all, about to turn 13. I’ve heard this is when it is supposed to start. But is it? Is it just now starting?
I feel like Brooklyn and I have been at odds since she was born, like LITERALLY. I have been blessed with overly large breasts and my whole life I said, “Well, at least I’m made for breast feeding!” Out came Brooklyn and guess what… she wouldn’t, couldn’t, didn’t breast feed. Finally after fighting with her and my breasts for a long torturesome 8 weeks with Lord KNOWS how many “lactation specialists,” I said I give up and gave the girl a bottle. She won battle #1. She has won every battle since. At a certain point I just can’t fight with her anymore.
She doesn’t do it on purpose. Truly, I know this. My heaven’s though…. sometimes I truly feel like she’s out to kill me. I can laugh about this since this girl is also the girl who wants her mom by her side as much as possible.
So here we are… on the brink of her teen years. She is a smart girl, but she has challenges. We now know she has ADHD and more truthfully, ADHD with Anxiety Disorder. She worries… about EVERYTHING. No matter what you say, she has 4 reasons why that won’t work already lined up and 8 more are coming right behind it, yes, even if NONE of them are even a tiny bit logical. That is frustrating as all get out.
For example, if you say, “Brooklyn, talk to your teacher about not understanding that math problem.” She will say “She won’t talk to me, she’ll be to busy with every one else’s problems, then Johnny will step in front of me, then it will be time to go to the next class and then Mr Broo will be mad because I was late.” – Um WOW.. you know all that now at 6:30am and you have not even been to school yet? “Yes, MOM, jeez, you jut don’t know.” That’s usually when I start rapping “Parent’s Just Don’t Understand” by Will Smith, she huffs, puffs, rolls her eyes at me and slams the door. I start laughing. Apparently though, its not a laughing matter because then I hear “IT’S NOT FUNNY, MOM!” To which her autistic brother looks at me and says, “Its kinda funny, mom!”
Other times, outta the blue I will say things like, “Brooklyn, you know it has been found that people with ADHD do better in neat and highly organized space. So why don’t we fix your room so you can be in a better space to help you.” Sometimes, she yips YEE HAW cuz she knows that means we get to go shopping for new buckets and bookshelves and what not. However most of the time, it is ok fine, we do it and within a day or so its all a chaotic mess again.
Mind you, I am not the neatest person in the world. I’m messy. I always have been. For me, its a matter of being lazy. I do it… but when I have to (like if someone calls and says hey we’re stopping by in 10 minutes!). However, for Brooklyn, it is much much more. She has executive functioning issues that keep her from being able to see past this very minute. I try and help her, “Hey Brooklyn, lets set up a daily to do list to help you stay on track so you don’t forget about that Science experiment that’s due in a month.” We spend the time together setting it all up but then in a week I ask, “how is that working” and find out – she never used it. Maddening.
I have tried, and tried and tried. I am out of options. I do not know what to do. I want to give up. Like, all the time, I want to give up and just walk away. Parenting a child with special needs is hard, real hard. Parenting TWO kids with special needs is damned near impossible. Doing it alone with no help from your ex-husband (which is pretty much one of the reasons – biggest reasons- he IS your ex-husband) is damned near impossible.
I want to give up.
Brooklyn and Steve are at their dad’s this weekend. I had a moment, was on my computer and realized I had not looked into the grade portal in a while. Knowing Brooklyn was out sick this entire week from school, which in middle school is a death sentence anyway, I knew it wouldn’t be pretty, but I was not prepared for what I saw. WOW, those grades are TERRIBLE…. like SO TERRIBLE that she could get put on academic probation and not be able to perform in the show choir competitions, kinda terrible. Which if you know ANYTHING about Brooklyn…. telling her she can’t sing… you may as well stick a knife in her heart. How the HELL did that just happen. I swear I JUST looked at this portal a couple weeks ago.
So now, here I am, beating myself up again.
You know, mom, that EVERY kid you know at this age (which is a lot) is working harder than she is. You know, you’ve given in and let her be on her phone, watch youtube too much. You know, you’ve “suggested” she study more but have not pushed her. You know, you’ve given up… why are you so surprised she’s here? Yeah the whip is pretty long this time.
I want to give up even more. I want to hop on a plane to Fiji, lie on the sand with a pina-colada and a cabana boy named Matthew. I want out.
Oh wait, I can’t hop on a plane to Fiji. I can’t sit on the beach drinking Pina-Colada’s and I really can’t have my cabana boy named Matthew.
WAKE UP WOMAN…. you’re a mom!
So, I have a decision to make. Am I going to blame the girl and her issues or am I gonna wake up, pull my head outta my ass and help her? Clearly, she can’t do it alone. Nor at 12 should she have to. I guess her biggest issue… well… IS ME.
I don’t know how. NO, I mean I REALLY don’t know HOW to pull it together. How I can be that amazing SpEd Mom to BOTH of them at the same time, especially without Hermoine’s magical time turner thingy jiggy (man I could really use some magical powers about now, JK ROWLING if you are reading this).
BUT I HAVE TO…. for if I don’t… who will?
Time to print some more “To-Do Lists” and “Reward Charts” and try again.