Preschool Field Trip- Pumpkin Patch

 

Why I'm Not a Good Hero

I'm re-posting one of my favorites from last year. 

One of the most common sentiments you'll hear from parents of children with special needs is that we are not saints or heros.

I'm sure that those labels sound like compliments.  I'm sure those of you on the outside would think we'd be proud to be seen in that light.

But the truth of it is, we don't feel like saints or heros.  We feel like regular people who struggle and who make mistakes.  Many of us faced some serious grief and soul-searching when we learned our child's diagnosis, or when things have felt particularly hard or scary.  It's hard to think of yourself as a saint with feelings like that.  You don't feel like a hero remembering the fear, the shame, the blame, or the anger.

We struggle every day wondering if our decisions are the best ones for our children.  We worry that we aren't doing enough, and then when we do as much as we can muster, we get burnt out and take steps back.  We second-guess every medical decision, we worry about milestones even though we know we shouldn't.  We will never be the mothers that we think we should be.  It's a mother's curse to feel that way, and we are no different from any other self-doubting mother.

But the hardest part about being called a hero is what that says about our children. 

When you say that I am a hero, I hear you saying that my child is a burden and that life with her must be such a sacrifice. 

When you say that you don't know how I do it or say that you couldn't do what I do, I wonder what it is that you think I do.  All parents feel fear, all parents worry for their children.  The truth is that you could do it if you had to, and chances are that you will have some significant struggles with your children at some point.

The truth of it is that we are all ordinary parents.  We all love our children.  We all struggle.  Some of the challenges for parents of kids with disabilities may seem more constant or apparent.  I won't tell you that those struggles aren't real.  But simply living with them doesn't make me a hero.

If you want to admire me, admire me for my cooking, my writing, or my laugh.  Admire me for sharing something that makes you think differently about the world or the people around you.  Admire me for sharing my thoughts and for giving you a glimpse into this beautiful life that I have with an amazing little girl: a girl who deserves way more admiration than I do.  I can take that kind of admiration, I guess, even if it makes me a tad uncomfortable.

Because as much as I am an ordinary fallible person full of flaws and fears, worries and demons, I still do believe that I am the perfect mother for Cora.  However it works that one soul gets paired with another as a mother and child, the match-up was spot on with us. 

Looking Back

Today I started scrolling through old photos of me and Cora, still thinking about wanting to focus more on capturing moments with my daughters on camera.

Just looking through the first year or so of photos of Cora's life, I am definitely there, even if it's not very frequent.  I seldom loved any photos of us together, but looking back at them now, it's so beautiful to see.  The beauty is obvious in my sweet girl, of course, but it's also there in the two of us. 

The beauty is even in the pain.  Loving so much most definitely can hurt, especially in those moments of fear and worry and suffering.

I am so happy that I can have the chance to look back.  To see myself falling in love through the camera's eye.  To see myself changed into the mother that I have become.  To see me in these moments with my girl

Miss Independent

Cora wants to be super independent these days.  No shocker there.  What 3 year old doesn't?

And with her new preschool, she's getting great practice in doing things for herself.  Sometimes it's hard when she physically needs assistance with things that she's still working on mastering.  And sometimes it's hard because she wants to do things her OWN way, which isn't always the way that works best for me.  Sometimes it's really hard to be patient.

Like today during grocery shopping.  We went to the Trader Joe's that has the perfect sized carts for 3 year old shoppers.  Cora was thrilled.  But she RAN all over the place, grabbing what looked good off the shelves, and shrieking maniacally as she sprinted her cart all over the store.  Was this convenient to me?  Not really.  With Ruby tucked in the sling, and the rest of the groceries in a big cart, Nick and I took turns chasing her around the store.

But did she love it?  Did she get to feel included?  Did she get to practice helping out in a meaningful way? Absolutely.  And that made it worth it.  Maybe it's not feasible every single time, but it's so important to make an effort. 

With my Girls

For some reason, this time around in the beginnings of parenting a new little person, I feel so much more aware of how fleeting everything is.

With Cora, at first I just wished time would fast forward and we could get through the hard parts without living it.  And it went so slow.  Until it didn't, and then time starting spinning by, and now look at my baby. 

With Ruby I feel like I want to absorb it all, even the hard parts.  I want to freeze time just a little longer and hold her sweet chubby baby self a little longer.  And I want to try and capture it.  Just tonight I told Nick that I want photos of me bouncing the two girls on the exercise ball, Ruby in her sling and Cora on my knee.  I have spent hours bouncing the two of them, to keep Ruby from screaming and because Cora wants in on the action.  And I realize that already I am needing to bounce less.  Before I know it I won't be bouncing them together.  Before I know it Ruby won't even fit in her sling.

And I want a photo of putting them down for naps, with each girl tucked under an arm.  I want a keepsake of these moments.  And it's so easy not to capture myself on camera.  I always hate how I look, hate how the photos turn out.  I think Nick must internalize my complaints, because he doesn't point the camera my way as often as he used to.  Looking through Cora's baby photos, it's surprising how few of them actually contain me, even though I lived with that girl attached at the hip for so long.

As long as the days feel, and despite the fact that every day I can't seem to wait until I am sitting on the couch with my girls sleeping in another room (which by the way is not looking like it's on the agenda tonight... as I currently am typing while balanced on the ball with Ruby in the sling), I still want to be able to pause and take it all in.  To click the shutter on the camera that's in my mind since I seldom have the hands free to grab the actual camera.

Maybe these thoughts will provoke more selfies with my phone instead of pretty pictures with blow-dried hair and camera-ready smiles.  We'll just have to see.

Throwback Thursday

“Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.”  

― Thích Nhất Hạnh

Sister Snuggles

We're big fans of snuggling around here.

And these days Cora has a new snuggly partner, who may or may not be as eager as she is for sister snuggles.

So far I'd say Ruby is smart to be concerned.