A Mother and Son Date: The B-Side

The Boy & I on our Mother & Son Date

I had this idea to have a mother and son date. The Boy and I are together all the time but our outings consist of errands, doctors appointments or shuttling him between boroughs.

On the weekends, its me, The Boy and The Husband. 

But The Boy's finally on summer vacation and I had a few days off. With no appointments or therapy on our schedule, I wanted to do something fun. Something memorable. Just us two.

If you follow us on Twitter or Instagram, our pictures look like we had a great time. And we did have a nice time but it came with more than our fair share of challenges. This post is what the pictures don't reveal about our day.

***  

We arrived at the Children's Museum of Manhattan (CMOM) shortly after opening. Within seconds, I felt unprepared and wished The Husband was there to help. The first floor was already packed with kids - many of them younger than The Boy. All running, laughing, playing.  Their parents watching from the sidelines, flipping through magazines, chatting on their phones. I followed The Boy around, hovering like I usually do.  My eyes scanning the room for exits and places he could hide.

The Boy darted from place to place, a grin from ear to ear, laughing too loudly. "Oh wow!" He yelled with much more excitement than the other 7-year-olds in the room.

We moved through the rest of the museum but none of the other exhibits excited The Boy as much as the first floor. So that's where we returned for one last run around before heading out to lunch. The room was still crowded.  But the boy was content playing on the slide. And for the first time that morning, I could sit and watch.

That's when they walked in. A group of special needs children and their aides - most likely part of a day camp respite program. Their ages must have ranged between 7 and 10, their disabilities varying.

There was one boy who caught my eye. He was overweight his belly hanging over his sweat shorts. He wore a button down shirt with only the top three buttons buttoned. And his undershirt was pulled up, exposing his large belly. I waited for one the aides to assist him, to pull his shirt down. None of them did.

I don't know why it bothered me so, but it did. I am so conscious of how The Boy looks, so aware of his appearance. It's the one thing I can control. If The Boy lifted up his shirt in public - I would have fixed it immediately. 

The aides wandered the floor aimlessly holding the hands of their kids. Not bothering to engage with them or show them around. The aides were too busy talking among themselves to bother with the children. The children were unlike The Boy, they were quiet, calm, content to be led rather than run.

Then I noticed the room got quiet. Really quiet. The packed room was suddenly empty. All the typical kids and their parents had moved on to other parts of the museum. It was just me, The Boy, the group of special needs kids and their aides. 

Was it too close to lunch? Or did those parents want distance from the kids with disabilities? It hurt too much to think about. 

Later, when I spoke to a friend about it she said "Not everyone is used to kids with special needs. Sometimes it makes people uncomfortable. They don't know how to act." 

I know this is true. I have seen the way people try not to notice us. At times, I don't know what's worse - the blatant staring or acting as if we're invisible. My sister is in her twenties and has an intellectual disability and I have seen people shy away from her (not always strangers either - friends, in-laws and members of our family).   

If The Boy was a 'typical' kid, would I have left too?

***

After lunch, The Boy and I took the bus across town. There was a large playground and The Boy wanted to go in. The playground was much bigger than any one we'd ever been. Too many blind spots, too many pyramids and tunnels - too many places to lose him.

Again, I noticed the groups of parents sitting on the benches secure knowing that when they called out a name, their kid would return.

I bribed The Boy with the promise of an ice cream so that we could leave. 

***

We walked to La Casa Azul (a book store specializing in Latino authors) and The Boy was on the verge of a meltdown. I shouldn't have taken him inside. I should have just left. Instead, I held both his hands while I browsed. The Boy wanted to leave. But I wanted to make a purchase. And I so badly wanted to buy him a book from La Casa Azul.

The whole time he kept saying "I'm going to break all the books. I'm going to spit on the floor." For a fraction of a second I let go of his hand and The Boy grabbed hold of a statue - I thought he was going to crush it. I freed the statue from his grasp, grateful I was the only one who noticed what The Boy had done.

At that point, I knew we were done. I purchased my books and left.

***

On the train ride home, The Boy asked if we could go to the playground. It was still early and since he didn't have a chance to play in the big playground, I agreed.

It was all good until a little girl (about 3 years old) started to cry. And that. Set. The Boy. Off! He always gets upset when he hears/sees another kid crying. He stopped playing and just stared at the girl. The Boy's chest started pumping and tears welled up in his eyes. "She's crying. She has to go home," he cried pointing to the girl.

I walked over to him and led him to a nearby bench. He was sobbing and shaking. The Boy climbed up on my lap, burying his face in the crook of my neck. 

I asked if he wanted to go home but he wanted to stay. I should have just taken him home. Instead I sat there cradling and consoling my 7-year-old son while the other children in the playground stared.

When he was ready to continue playing, I told him we were going to stay for 10 minutes. "Put the timer on," The Boy said. 

A group of boys were gathered around the water fountain, filling up their water guns. I have to watch whenever The Boy gets too close to the fountain. (The last time we were in the playground, he saw a kid drink water from the fountain. Thirsty, but not knowing how to work the water fountain, The Boy attempted to sip from the pool of water that hadn't drained.) The Boy, watching the kids at the fountain, ran up and splashed them all with water. I made him apologize and led him out of the park. 

The Boy burst into tears again. "I'm going to break all my toys," he repeated. "I'm going to spit." He dug his nails into my hand. 

"Stop!" I yelled. "You are not going to break all of your toys. And don't even think about spitting."

Walking up the steps to our building, I saw The Boy gathering his saliva, ready to spit. I swatted his mouth. "What did I say about spitting!?"               

He pulled his hand out of mine and started to run away. He didn't get far.

Once inside our apartment, The Boy yanked off of his shoes and threw them at the mirror. Then he spit on the floor. I yelled at him again, grabbed him by the arm and marched him to his room for a time out. I needed space. I hate losing my temper with The Boy. I know it doesn't make a meltdown any better. I know I'm not setting the example. But I am human. I'm a mom. And sometimes, I completely lose my shit.   

That's when I started to cry. If The Boy can be this challenging for me now, what will happen when he gets older? When he gets too big and too heavy for me to send him to his room. Will he 'grow out' of this behavior? Or will it get worse? 

Why, I wondered. Why did a simple outing - a day that was supposed to be fun - have to be  so difficult? Why couldn't I ignore the behavior? Why couldn't I redirect him? Why couldn't we just have one day without a major meltdown? Why couldn't I get through to him? Why did The Boy have to have autism? That's the why I hated the most. I hate myself when that why creeps in.

I thought about the group of special needs kids and their inattentive aides. The parents and kids who left the room. The kids in the playground who stared as The Boy cried. The Boy playing alone in a playground full of kids.  

Was this to be our life? Or was this just our day? Sometimes it's hard to know the difference.

A Mother and Son Date in NYC

This week is The Boy's first official week of summer vacation and I took a few days off to spend some time with him. (And because summer is challenging to find childcare.) Thursday was a beautiful day so I decided that we would take the train into the City and go to the Children's Museum of Manhattan.

Talk about sensory overload! I can't remember seeing The Boy so excited. He was running and laughing. Just really really happy. It was tough for me to keep up with him. And next time I go, I'll want to go with The Husband. 

We had lunch. And then walked to the crosstown bus. The Boy spotted a playground and wanted to go in. We went in for a bit but it was a big (BIG) playground with too many blind spots. The kind of playground where I need a second set of eyes. So we left. And I had to bribe The Boy with ice cream because how else would I have gotten him out. 

And after his ice cream...he was happy again. 

Then we walked and walked and walked. All the way to 103rd street and Lexington Avenue. (From 85th and 5th) There was this bookstore I wanted to go to...La Casa Azul. 

  

After I purchased a few books, we took the 6 train back home. And then I took him back to the playground. 

We had a good day. But don't let these few pictures fool you. We had our share of challenges. I wish that I could say that we had this perfect Mother and Son day. That The Boy didn't have a meltdown (or two). That I didn't come home and cry. But that is for another post.

Can an Autism Mom Have It All? (My Response to Time Magazine Article: The Childfree Life)

By now you've seen this Time cover. The taunting photo of a couple sans kids sprawled out on the beach, hands over head, all smug and relaxed because their childfree life allows them to have it all.

The article explores the lives of childless women and couples. And ever since it's publication, the blogosphere has been all a buzz over it. 

Babble blogger Jeannette Kaplun wrote an excellent post in response: 

Being a parent has been the best choice for me, but it isn’t necessarily for everybody. That’s why it didn’t surprise me at all to see this week’s TIME cover, which looks at the choice more American couples are making — to purposefully live their lives without children. I don’t think that choosing to not be a mother is selfish. I actually think that it can do the world a ton of good. 

I agree with Jeannette, I believe in a woman's right to choose. I believe that not all women are supposed to be mothers. I believe that motherhood was the best thing that happened to me (even though it wasn't exactly in my life plan).

And I feel sorry for the women in the Time article. Not sorry that they don't have children - sorry that they feel the need to justify their reasons why they don't have/want children. 

Still the great debate continues. Can we or can't we have it all. And what does having it all really mean? Does 'all' even matter? 

We don't have to look to a magazine cover to see women who appear to have it all - all we have to do is log on to Facebook or Pinterest. Social media allows us to peer into the window of other women's lives and wonder how do they do it? They either have great jobs or they're stay-at-home moms or they have the best of both worlds - they are work-at-home moms. They live in the right neighborhoods, have the 'perfect' kids or the 'perfect' partner. They drive the nice car and eat the right foods. Everything matches and they're exactly the size they're supposed to be. Their hair and nails are always done. They wear designer clothes that I can't pronounce. They go on date nights, girls night out and romantic weekend getaways. Their homes are out of the pages of a Pottery Barn catalog - they can light candles without worrying about a kid setting themselves on fire. They craft and scrapbook and bake their own bread and do all sorts of amazing things with their kids that make me feel like a slacker mom. Their kids are on the honor roll, have dates to prom and get scholarships to college. They have empty nest syndrome, enjoy their retirement and/or surrounded by adorable grandchildren.

Time magazine makes me wonder: what about autism parents? Do we, can we or will we ever have it all?

I know many mothers who quit their jobs to stay home with their kids. Some autism moms home school. And when they don't, they wonder if they should. 

We spend hours researching, reviewing, learning about autism, therapies, medications and legal rights. We can easily spend more time on the phone fighting with insurance companies than chatting with our BFFs. We constantly worry about our kids and their future. Will they have friends? Will they fall in love? Have a job? Live independently? We want nothing more than to be there for our child, to live forever or secretly hope to outlive our child by a day (or less).

What about an autism mom like me?

I work (full-time outside of the home) because I have to and The Boy goes to a school I had to fight to get him into. As an autism mom, I am exhausted and overwhelmed. There isn't a night when I don't lay awake in my bed worrying over all the What Ifs and Will Hes. 

I look at the Time cover and I wonder if I will ever lay like that on a beach with The Husband. Our date nights are so few and far between - will a romantic weekend getaway ever be a possibility? Will we be able to relax and enjoy our golden years? Will we ever have a 'childfree' life even after our child grows up?   

I don't know. Honestly? The not knowing makes me sad.  

My life is far from perfect. I have more than my fair share of stress, disappointment and heartache. By some women's standards, I don't have it all. Not many women would trade their sexy heels to step into my sensible flats. And that's okay because I wouldn't trade in my flats for their heels either. 

So when I read a headline like When having it all means not having children - I have to check myself and take inventory of what I do have.

I have a husband who adores me and genuinely supports me in every way.

I have a beautiful boy who lights up my world even on my darkest day.

I have parents, family and friends who accept The Boy just as he is.

I have a job that pays the bills (and provides health insurance) and a few freelance gigs that keep me sane.

I have a comfortable apartment that's a size I can manage to keep clean. We have a car that can get us from point a to point b. And I have a few cute pair of sensible flats.  

I never wanted to be a mother. It wasn't something I dreamed about or planned for. Motherhood, for me, just happened. But being a mother - being The Boy's mother - has given me more than I could have ever imagined. I don't have many material things but I have the things that matter most. I don't have to have it all. Because I'm happy with what I have right now. What I have is more than enough. 

All That's Left Unsaid

The last days of July and the first few of August are painful. I find myself with too much time to think. Three years ago I suffered a loss. A grief so great, it's impossible to get over. I've written about this loss, my pain. Yet there is still so much left unsaid. And the unsaid is too painful to write. The unsaid is what hurts the most. And for now it's better left unsaid.

Today I will let others say it for me.   

*** 

A miscarriage is a natural and common event. All told, probably more women have lost a child from this world than haven't. Most don't mention it, and they go on from day to day as if it hadn't happened, so people imagine a woman in this situation never really knew or loved what she had. 

 

But ask her sometime: how old would your child be now? And she'll know.
 

~ Barbara Kingsolver

Are We Ready to Adopt a Child?

When I was eleven years old my parents decided to open our home to a foster child. I will never forget the first and only newborn baby that entered our lives. We called him “CJ” and he was five days old. He was tiny and plump, with thick ink black hair.

CJ changed the whole dynamic of our home; I saw a side of my mother I had never seen before. I remember coming home from school hearing my mother singing, laughing, fussing over this little baby that needed her in a way my brother and I no longer did. Even my father and brother who rarely showed affection, enjoyed CJ’s company.

Four days later, CJ’s paternal grandmother decided she would be his guardian and CJ was gone.

It was the first time I saw my mother cry. In only four days CJ made us all fall in love. And more than two decades later, I still think of him.

A few months after CJ left, a social worker rang our bell one rainy Tuesday night with a wobbly toddler wearing a yellow and white sweatsuit. Her name was Jennifer. We were cautious at first, not wanting to get too attached. But it didn’t take long for Jennifer to feel like she was part of our family. And we fell in love with her as easily as we did with CJ. Years later when Jennifer was finally eligible for adoption, we didn’t even have to think about it. 

In these last few months, I’ve been considering adopting a child of my own. 

Read the rest click on the link -->  Things to Consider When Thinking of Adoption

Why Can't Every Weekend Be a Three Day Weekend?

Wouldn't it be amazing if every weekend was a three day weekend? 

If corporate work weeks for low level employees like me could have a four day work week? At the same pay rate. (Obviously...)

It's Tuesday and I went to work. Yesterday was President's Day and I had the day off. A wonderful three day weekend.

As a full-time working (outside the home) mom, I feel like I'm constantly playing catch up. Now that school has started, my time is even more limited. 

But when I have a three day weekend - I feel like I get soooo much done. 

Like all the laundry. I even folded it. And I set up The Boy's outfits for the week.  

I went to the supermarket and Target. I even cooked a meal or two. 

I cleaned and organized. 

I wrote a post that made me all teary and sentimental. I got to read an A M A Z I N G book and it made me cry the ugly cry.  

I took the time to just be a mom.

We even took The Boy for a pony ride. He liked it! He really liked it! 

I even wasted a few seconds on that WeeMee nonsense. I'm not gonna lie - I think mine came out super cute. Way better than I'm looking these days...she even got to go to Paris.

And then today the madness started all over again. The tooth brush battle (The Boy fights me every morning). The rushing to get out the door. Fighting my way through the D train crowd. Trying to get through emails and setting up meetings. Then rushing back home, hoping to get to the gym - only to sit on a delayed 6 train for half an hour. So that by the time I got home, I was so hungry and cranky I skipped the gym. So just I cooked dinner. And maybe I'll wash the dishes before I go to sleep. Or I'll leave them for the morning.

When it all starts over again... 

I Wouldn't Call You Selfish. But I Wouldn't Say You Understand Either.

During my final semester as an undergrad student, I was sitting in my Greek Mythology class when a girl asked me for some of the answers on the 30 question study sheet the professor handed out the week before. She had the nerve to say, she didn't have time to answer them all.

Side note: During this time I was working full-time, applying to graduate and having The Boy evaluated for Early Intervention.

It had been the third time during the semester this girl had asked me for the answers to something. Which was annoying for many reasons but mainly because she had spent the first day of class bragging about how Greek Mythology was "her thing."

Now usually, I'm the nice girl in the class. Ready to share my notes or lend a pen. But this time I needed to put my foot down. And this is how our conversation went:

Needless to say, she never asked me for another answer for the remainder of the semester. I mean really - she compared babysitting to being a mom. A babysitter gets paid. A babysitter gets to go home at the end of her shift. A mom's shift never ends.

And last week I was in class and sitting between two women and the conversation turned to motherhood. Once again I'm the only one in the class with a young child.

And one woman said, "It's annoying when my mom friends tell me I don't know what it's like to be a mom just because I don't have kids."

The other woman said, "I know right! I mean, I can imagine. And I hate when they tell me that I live a selfish life."

While I said I wouldn't dare call any woman who didn't have kids "selfish," I politely agreed that you can never know what motherhood is like until you're actually a mom. 

I don't think they appreciated that but it's true. Imagining life as a mom and being a mom are two completely different things.

Because you can't possibly imagine waking up in the middle of the night, night after night to calm a crying kid. You can't imagine the amount of preparation it takes to run out for a quick trip to the market. Or having someone puking, peeing or pooping on you and just shrugging it off as no big deal. Or how quickly your heart stops when you think something has happened to your kid. 

And you can't imagine how good a hug can feel. Or how a smile can make your heart melt. Or the pride you feel when you see your kid do something for the first time. 

But it's so much more than that. Motherhood changes a woman. At least it changed me. Before The Boy, I occasionally imagined what motherhood would be like too. I had all these ideas about the kind of mom I would be and how I would raise my kid.

Now I have a really good imagination. And I was wrong about almost everything.

I'm Stranded in Texas, My Heart is in New York #Hurricane Sandy

It's been rough couple of days - the mom guilt is kicking in full force. I think I've cried all over Texas. I want to be with The Boy right now. And I can't. I am stranded in Houston, TX. My flights have been cancelled...

And I'm glued to CNN watching the news.

There is so much I want to say about the excitement of LATISM'12. How happy I am to have won an award. How grateful I am for everyone's support...how inspired I feel by being surrounded by so many amazing Latinos.

But right now - I just can't. I'm thinking of my family and friends in New York and all over the east coast. Stay safe. I'm praying for you and love you. If it's one thing I love about my city is how resilient we are. How we have the ability to come together in moments of crisis. We will be okay. We can get through this.

Please STAY SAFE. Stay where you are. Stay off the roads. Listen to the instructions of the Mayor and Governor.

Hopefully I will be home soon.

Thank you to all my friends in the blogging community - especially, Juan and Ariana (my new Houston friends) - your hospitality and generosity will never be forgotten.

There are a few I want to thank personally but I know you do not want to be thanked publicly. Please know, I am extremely moved by your words and support.

7 Never Ending Tasks of Mom

Do you know the story of Sisyphus?  Sisyphus was this guy condemed by the Greek Gods for all eternity. His punishment? To roll a huge bolder up a mountain. And just as Sisyphus reached the top the bolder would come rolling back down. It was an endless and unavailing task.

Some days I feel like Sisyphus. Day after day, doing the same things.  All. Day. Long.

These are my 7 Sisyphean tasks as a mom:

Laundry. I can't remember the last time I saw the bottom of my laundry bin. When I'm not washing, I'm folding.  When I'm not washing or folding, I'm putting away. And when I'm not washing, folding or putting away - I'm sorting.  Laundry is a four step task that really never ends.  

Dishes. I don't have a dish washer. I could easily washes dishes 2 to 3 times a day. And just when I walk away from the sink, I could walk into another room and find a stray dish or cup.

Making the bed.  The Boy has this thing about getting in the bed after it's made.  I make the beds walk out of the room and when I return, he's either all snuggled up in one of the beds or he's made a snuggle and run. 

Picking up LEGO bricks. I'm always picking up a LEGO. They just appear out of nowhere. Especially at 2am when I'm stumbling to the bathroom.

Cooking. Because they have to eat.

Putting down the toilet seat lid. I'm the only lady in my house. I don't think any amount of discrete trials can eliminate this behavior. 

Paperwork. This may be a special needs mom thing but the paper can become insane. And this isn't something I do all day, every day but it still belongs on this list. There is always a form to fill out.  And it's always the same questions.  And after you fill out a 5, 10, 15 page form. You will be asked the same questions. I wish there was just one form that we can carry around on a flash drive or some kind of recording that I could share or play. 

Wouldn't that be nice?

  What are your never ending tasks?

Managing the OMG Moments as Parents of Special Needs Kids

If you're a special needs parent - you've had those moments that have made stop, hold your head in your hands and screamed OMG.  


I know I have.  Some times in frustration.  Some times in complete disbelief.  And some times in absolute amazement.  The OMG moments as parents of special needs kids runs quite the gamut of emotions.   And getting through those moments are easiest when you have someone who will listen, understand, celebrate or advise. 

That being said, I've been asked to co-host a live, all-text Talk on The Motherhood called Managing the OMG Moments as Parents of Special Needs Kids.  We'll talk about the challenges, feelings of isolation, advocating for our kids, interactions with friends and family and anything else that’s affecting your life these days.  Come share your stories, approaches and ideas, and we'll do our best to support each other. 

I am so excited! 

Here are the details:
    
When: Friday, May 18, at 1 p.m. ET.  We will chat for 30 minutes!
 
Where: On The Motherhood, right here - http://bit.ly/K04T0h

RECAP of show is here - http://www.themotherhood.com/blog/managing-the-omg-moments-as-parents-of-special-needs-kids/
 
Who: The all-text chat will be hosted by the amazing Ellen Seidman of Love That Max.  

Co-hosting are these wonderful women:

Dana, Uncommon Sense, http://niederfamily.blogspot.com/
Hallie, Visions of Johanna, http://hallielevinesklar.com/
Jennifer, Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism, http://thinkingautismguide.blogspot.com/
Kate, Chasing Rainbows, http://www.kateleong.com/
Katy, Bird on the Street, http://birdonthestreet.com/
Lisa, Autism Wonderland, http://www.autismwonderland.com/
Shasta, Outrageous Fortune, http://www.outrageousfortune.net/
Sunday, Extreme Parenthood, http://www.extremeparenthood.com/

 
Co-host Twitter IDs
@UncommonBlogger
@thinkingautism
@kateleong
@birdonthestreet
@LaliQuin
@outrageousblog
@xtremeparnthood

Host Twitter IDs: 
@LoveThatMax
@theMotherhood
@EmilyMcKhann
@CooperMunroe
@eolson426

Hope you join us!  
 

Mother's Day in The Bronx, NYC (Sundays in my City)

My favorite kind of flower.  The kind that doesn't die. 

Even though it's my 6th Mother's Day, I am still surprised when people wish me a Happy Mother's Day.  Not sure why...I guess I think of it like any other day.  But I do like the way The Husband and The Boy makes me feel special.    

I can't believe how big my kid is.

I am grateful, that today - I got to sleep until 9:30 a.m.  And when I woke up, The Husband said, "Get dressed, we're going downtown for brunch."  We went to Blue Smoke.  

Salud!

Yummy French Toast  

We ordered some stuff to go - their signature BBQ chips and blue cheese & bacon dip.  And their dessert sampler.  I ate them while putting this post together.  I was too busy eating to take pics.  

A rare family photo 

What's a Sunday like in your City?   
Unknown Mami wants to know!   
Go on over to Sundays In My City.