Parenting is Hard

Yesterday was Sky's 8th grade National Junior Honor Society awards ceremony. He got inducted last year based on his academic performance and community service. Of course, Ren and I are both very proud of how hard he worked to overcome the challenges of autism and various developmental delays to become a lot like his peers--a sharp, funny, sarcastic teenager. But, this blog post is not about that.

You guys, every piece of the outfit he selected for the ceremony last night was too small. Oh, and it clashed. He wore a black and red horizontal plaid shirt a green and a (different shade of) red diagonal plaid tie. Apparently, he couldn't find any of his non-Christmas ties. The only thing in the ensemble that fit was his shoes (though goodness knows why THOSE still fit). The sleeves on his shirt, a good three inches too short. And, his pants? Well they reminded me of the time Bobby Brady tried to do his own laundry. Seriously, if the kid wasn't a total string bean, he would not have been able to even get these clothes on. On the bright side, his socks matched, though he did also forget to wear his NJHS pin.

At LEAST three inches.

These children, they make it hard to parent them. They don't listen when I ask/tell them to do something, and 9 times out of 10, I am asking or telling because I know how it's going to play out. Given that it's the end of the semester and that the various spring events are in full swing, I knew I wouldn't be able to solve any last minute wardrobe issues. That's why I asked him to try the stuff on the night before. I suppose I should have made Sky come down and show me the outfit he planned to wear, but honestly? Couldn't he tell they were a bit on the tight side? Isn't part of my job to teach them agency?

As far as I could tell, he was the only kid with clothes that were two sizes too small. When he walked, he pulled at the tail of his shirt and the cuffs of his sleeves. He slouched a bit more than usual. He ran his hands through his unruly hair that's three weeks past time for a cut (but that he wants to grow out), and I felt pretty bad for him. Guess I learned my lesson--parenting is hard. Also, I probably need to take him shopping more often, even though he hates it.

Calibrating

I tried taking Stow to karate today, but when we walked in, the class before his had more people than usual, and they were doing something he didn't expect them to be doing. This triggered his anxiety, but I didn’t realize it until he started to freak out because he couldn’t quite get his belt tied right.

“Let me help you,” I said.

“No!” he replied, angry that I would embarrass him by offering. After refusing my help three times, he thrust his hands into the pockets of my jacket and pushed me to the wall.

“I don’t want to do karate today,” he whispered. I bent down to ask him why, and he grabbed my head and pulled me close. “We have to go now,” he said, his nose nearly touching mine, panic in his eyes.

“We came all this way, and it will be your turn soon,” I said, trying to calm him some. With his hands still in my pockets, he pulled away hard and then jabbed them into my chest.

“Now!” he growled, trying not to raise his voice or burst into tears. “Or, I’m going to run away.”

I didn’t want to leave. We’d driven 30 minutes to get there, and I’d already paid for the lesson. Plus, the instructor expected him to be there. But, the thing is my calculus about how to handle moments like this ALWAYS takes into account what other people will think and/or how he SHOULD act. When he is melting down or doing or saying something “inappropriate,” I am always simultaneously trying to figure out how to help him without somehow inconveniencing other people.

Stow losing his shit because a bunch of kids are doing things he wasn’t expecting shouldn’t be traumatic for me, but it is. Part of the reason, of course, is because it breaks my heart every time his disability gets in the way of him doing things he would probably enjoy. But this article helped me realize (in a way I hadn’t before) that maybe the bigger reason I find all of this SO hard is because every time it happens I realize that we spend so much time and energy trying to get him to behave in a way that’s acceptable, when really we should be focusing on how his behavior expresses exactly what he needs.

I wonder what would happen if we lived in a world that was calibrated to a wider range of behaviors and needs? I know for me, at least, it would mean that I would no longer be trapped in an impossible conundrum that somehow requires me to meet the needs of my child while also making sure he functions appropriately in a world that isn’t terribly hospitable to him.