She was excited to go to the playground so she sweetly attempted to carry over all 3 pairs of shoes - mine, hers, and Patrick's. This was a goal we worked on for months that just clicked. It's a life changer, by the way. I wanted to give her positive reinforcement because that's what every professional has said I'm supposed to do. So I hurriedly put on everyone's shoes, and figured we'd just get to the playground early.
Well, when we arrived Norah obviously wasn't there yet. Again, my child is very literal so she begins screaming, "NORAH PLAYGROUND!" over and over and over. No ritz cracker bribe will work to calm her. No redirection is working. She's "hard to redirect" according to professionals. Strangers walking by gave me empathetic looks. Luckily Norah and her mom were there 15 minutes later. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then it was Patrick's turn to fuss. He's getting eight teeth at the same time so he's always on the edge of a meltdown.
I was able to cheer him up by taking him to chase balls on the tennis court but Hartley was devastated to leave Norah. I explained we'd give Patrick five minutes on the court, then we'd head back to our friends. She wasn't satisfied with this so she balled up her fist and began shoving it down her throat and gagging. Her eyes began to water. And I wanted to cry. She was so mad at me that she was hurting herself. So I went to grab Patrick, and I told her, "we're going to Norah right now. Please stop! It's okay."
But it was too late. She was too far gone. She began biting her hand. And I fought back tears. I had just gotten to the point a week earlier where I told Norah's mom that Hartley has autism. I wanted her to know why things are sometimes different with Hartley, and I illogically feared if I told her, they wouldn't want to play with us anymore. Now here we were, my son screaming as I've interrupted his play, and my daughter hell bent on knawing off her hand. I said good bye quickly and jogged my stroller away. I told myself we were never going out in public again. I doubted myself, like I always do.
I decided I wasn't going to vote. I was too tired. I couldn't do it.
But during nap time, an ad for Hillary came on that I've seen a hundred times this election cycle. There's a clip of Donald Trump mocking someone with disabilities and tears streamed down my face. I couldn't stop them. Poetically, Hartley began to wake. I went in to go get her, and I said, "good morning, baby!" She chirped in a mirroring inflection, "good morning, baby!" She echoes me. She does it less since starting school but all of the professionals we've met with have noticed this about Hartley within minutes of meeting her. I looked into her gorgeous, smiling blue eyes. And again the tears came. In that moment I decided, as hard as taking them to the polls will be, as embarrassed as I might feel at times, I'm doing it. And here it is folks, not PC at all, I wasn't voting for my son or my husband or even myself. I was voting for my daughter who is differently abled. As her mother, I was standing up to a bully. I was going to show how I felt, not my posting a rant on Facebook but rather by exercising my right.
I uneffectively briber my children with candy and walked with my head held high as I cast my ballot. And on the way home, the tears came again. I had just voted for the better candidate. But I had voted for the first female president with my young daughter right by my side. If that doesn't give you chills, nothing will. I was doing my teeny part to shatter the hell out of that glass ceiling while standing for what I believe in.
Spoiler alert: my candidate didn't win.
I gulped back wine. I stayed positive until 2 am when the tears came yet again. But I reminded myself tomorrow was a brand new day. I had and have to be the strong woman I am each and every day. I owe my children that. I may feel surprised, disappointed, and even a little sick to my stomach. But life is no longer about me. It's about my kids and the example I set for them every day.
If I cuss, they cuss. If I cry, they begin to cry. If I mope and wallow, they'll be sad. They look to me for guidance, positivity and security. And no matter who the president is, this is what I will give them. You can voice your opinions without anger and hatred. You can be strong without instigating.
If I preach and practice love, acceptance and compassion - I pray my children will do the same someday. If I teach them to find the good in life, I hope it sticks.
This is how a special needs mother of two feels this post Election Day. You can feel how you feel. You are absolutely entitled to that. But respect my right to do the same.
This is how a special needs mother of two feels this post Election Day. You can feel how you feel. You are absolutely entitled to that. But respect my right to do the same.
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