I've spent the past 24 hours feeling like a seriously crappy parent. Really. Welcome to the pity party.
Here's the deal: maybe I AM a crappy parent. Seriously! After all, it seems that autism parents can't do anything right. We're either labeled as martyrs by some if we fight too hard, or we're told that we've given up if we don't try hard enough. Don't get me started on the people who think that we're exaggerating or buying into the latest "fad" diagnosis or looking for an excuse for our child's behavior (which, of course, everyone else has an opinion on how you should deal with it).
Being a blogger - particularly an autism blogger, who am I kidding...autism parents, writers or not, all get this, too - you are issued with unsolicited advice in spades. It's okay to complain. It's not okay to complain. Try this. Try that. Your kid is different. Your kid is normal. You know, nothing too confusing, right?
And I have come to one important conclusion...I AM A CRAPPY PARENT! Why? Because I manage to screw up no matter what I do. For example:
- I got my son was diagnosed with autism at 24 months old. Letting someone label him surely has warped him.
- I didn't get my son diagnosed as early as some of my friends did with their children. I was in denial for a while. That had to warp him, too.
- My son has not said a spontaneous word or phrase for the past 30 minutes. Instead, he's been reciting a string of echolalia as extensive as the day is long. And I've allowed it.
- I've let him stim. I buy him magnetic letters. Surely, magnetic letters screw our kids up. At least, that's what I've been told. I've clearly been told to limit my kid's access to his favorite stims, but I let him stim away anyways.
- If stimming is keeping him from doing something he needs to do (like eat), I try to interrupt it, because interrupting stimming is apparently bad, too.
- I love my kid too much and try to see his behavior as his means of communication. I bear in mind that my child has autism when evaluating his behavior. After all, shouldn't I just treat him like everyone else?
- I do try to just treat him like a child. That's messed up, too.
- I'm letting my kid eat a Pop Tart - a processed, gluten-laced food - while watching his iPad. I'm not pushing new foods. Instead, I'm settling for the fact that I will do ANYTHING to get my kid to eat. In fact, I let him have a Pop Tart last night, too. I'll probably do the same tomorrow, because that's what I can get him to eat for dinner.
- And while we're at it, I'm not known to be the healthiest eater, either. Some days, this is my breakfast:
Clearly, I bear no shame.
- I let my kid skip therapy because he was so upset that he threw up. That's bad, because therapy helps our kids.
- I took my kid to therapy the next day despite him being upset. After all, too much therapy is bad, too.
- I finally consented to medication for my son after agonizing over the decision since January. After all, medication is poison.
- I agonized over the decision to medicate my son and didn't do it sooner, because surely making him suffer with his anxiety over that time-span is bad, too.
- I don't do biomed. I haven't tried EVERYTHING.
- I vaccinate my kid. See the first medication bullet point.
- I complain that parenting my autistic child is hard sometimes. That's pretty crappy because some people have it worse. It's also crappy because it might indicate that I have something against my son, even though I really don't.
- I'm too positive sometimes. Don't I know that some people are brought down by positivity, which probably makes me more of a crappy friend and page admin than a crappy parent, but you get the idea.
See? My list of crappy parenting transgressions is extensive. I feed my kid processed food, pump his body full of chemicals, and subject him to therapy that makes him cry. I take it day-by-day and am not an expert in autistic children, though I might be the closest thing to one when it comes to my own kid.
Basically, no matter what I do, I'm screwed, because there is someone out there who will think it's the wrong way to think, the wrong way to be, and the wrong way to parent.
I am a crappy parent, but - pardon me for saying so - I'd argue that you are, too. Actually, I'd argue that everyone is, at one time or another, messing their kids up in some way or another. You're probably doing it without ever meaning to do so; I know that I don't wake up each morning and think, "I wonder just what I could do to really screw my kid up today?", and I'm guessing that you don't either.
Actually, that probably makes me a pretty run-of-the-mill average parent. Each day, I set out in life trying to screw up less often than I did the day before, all in an effort to raise the best Jack that I can. Some days I succeed better than others.
In the past week, I've gotten criticism for several things - deciding to medicate my child, being one - and I've seen other special needs mom bloggers get criticized for everything from complaining to letting their kids watch The Big Bang Theory because her kids could relate to Sheldon (the horror of letting your children watch a character with whom they can identify and relate!).
I think the mom-on-mom war has gone on long enough. Not to go all Biblical on everyone, but I'd argue that the mom who has never made a parenting mistake should be the one to cast the first bit of judgment and criticism towards any of us fellow moms out there. I'm guessing that I'd be hard pressed to find a mom who has never made a mistake in raising her children.
I'm a crappy parent, but I'm guessing that you are, too. So is the NT mom who lives next door, and the one down the street. There are crappy parents everywhere, but the hallmark of a good crappy parent (that may be an oxymoron) is that a good one isn't trying to screw up. A good one is acting in the best interests of her children, even if those interests are sometimes guiding her in the wrong direction. A good mom can admit mistakes, admit that she is not without fault, and move forward like the crappy parent she is.
I'm a crappy parent, and I think it makes me a pretty darned typical one.