Most of the stories and pictures I share about Noah are happy ones. And to be honest, there really are a lot of these kinds of days...
Friday was not one of those days though.
Things went from bad to worse, starting with what was supposed to be a fun family outing. We went to pick out new shoes for me (I realized I hadn't gotten new running shoes since Christmas, and that may be why my knee and big toe have been hurting like crazy). I already knew it would be testing Noah taking him there, so I tried to make a decision as quickly as possible. Brad did really well watching Noah. Unfortunately, Noah didn't understand why he couldn't run up and down the aisles like he used to when he was a lot smaller. Brad would tell him "no", and I could hear the whining, followed by a dead-weight Noah falling to the floor. People look, we ignore them, and Noah can't figure out why we're being mean.
There's a pet store near the shoe store, so I tried to remedy the situation by letting him look at the animals... especially the fish. Dude loves fish. Figures he'd love the least social animal in there. lol.
Anyway, Noah was already annoyed with Brad. So when Brad told him not to touch the water, Noah turned around and told Brad to go away. He kept waving his arm for Brad to go away until Brad disappeared down an aisle. I happened to think it was hilarious.
We stayed there for a good half hour, just watching all of the fish. When we decided it was time to go, Noah wasn't having it. Cue lots of fussing and dead weight again. Brad had to carry him out like a football. The kid is a good 45 lbs at least. And tall.
We had to go to the grocery store, which I should've known would be a mistake since it wasn't Target (where his Starbucks barista girlfriend saves him some pumpkin bread). He was hungry (even after two freebie cookies) and spotted his favorite... Lays potato chips. He zeroes in on those bright yellow bags. I got him the snack size, and we tried to ring it up at the self checkout... which of course wasn't working. I told him to "wait", which is his least favorite word ever. Cue whining and fussing again. Finally, we got him his chips, and things got better. Except that our nerves were wearing thin and we still didn't know what to do for dinner.
I asked Brad what he wanted, and he informed me that he was driving to McD's, whether I approved or not. haha. Again, I tried to compensate for a crappy day, so I asked Brad to order Noah a vanilla cone. I handed it to Noah, and he proceeded to just hold it. Didn't eat it. Just let it sit there and melt in his hand. So I reached back to grab it from him, just to lick around it so it wouldn't melt all over his hands. He didn't want to give it up, even though he wasn't eating it. So when I went to grab it, he squeezed the bottom, causing it to break in half. So here I was holding a melting top to an ice cream cone.
We made it home in piece (albeit sticky).
Me, being ever the optimist, decided we needed to take a time out. Go for a walk. We put Noah in his wagon and walked around the neighborhood. It's part of our little summer evening routine, and it never fails to lift our moods. It really was a nice break.
Until we got home. Brad went to get something out of his car. Noah was with him. Noah proceeded to shut his fingers in the door. Kid was screaming.
Thankfully, because Noah was the one that shut it, it wasn't a hard shut. His fingers aren't even bruised, but I know it hurt.
The pain made him angry. Brad was trying to put ice on it, while I attempted to comfort him. Because that's what moms do. Every time we said, "It's okay", he only escalated. As if to say, "What the flip are you talking about, it's most definitely NOT OKAY!" I tried doing the deep pressure occupational therapy techniques to help him calm down. It usually works, and that's what we're supposed to do. Well, Noah wasn't having it.
He hauled off and smacked me.
My sweet, happy, smiley baby boy... who until this week hasn't hit anyone ever... hit me.
That did it. I couldn't take any more. I broke down into sobs.
I can put up with a lot. A lot a lot. I can handle my kid never calling me "Momma". Ever. I can handle the fact that he doesn't really have friends (nor does he care). I can handle that I'm still having to change my very large 4 yr old's diapers that he's outgrowing. I can handle that I'm constantly making two meals for dinner, because he's such a picky eater. I can handle that my son can't tell me what he's thinking or feeling. What he understands and what he doesn't. I can handle the onslaught of opinions about how to parent and help my son. I can handle running him around to therapy after therapy, in hopes that one day all of this will add up and result in a high-functioning ASD person. I can even handle tantrums... they really don't bother me that much, because I refuse to indulge them.
But having my naturally tender-hearted boy, who I do so freaking much for, turn around and smack me when I'm trying to comfort him? Yeah, that was too much. I can't handle that.
Frankly, I think it's okay to admit when something is too much. Parenting a special needs kid requires putting on a brave face every day. Not letting the struggles dig their way into your heart and make you resentful. Allowing God to step in and give you the strength to deal with all of the extras that come along with this particular call in life.
I totally understand why he hit me. It had nothing to do with me in particular. His fingers hurt, it made him mad, and this was his only way to communicate his anger and frustration. It made him feel better to lash out.
I adore my baby. Our days are almost always good. This is just a blip compared to the big picture. But sometimes it helps to write it out. Get some blog therapy. In my case, I had to get it out, so I can move on and celebrate my baby's birthday this week.
Here's hoping for a few days of no tantrums and lots of fun. :)
6 comments:
I know I can't fully relate to all of this, but bad days like this? Yep. And when they end with a smack or something out of character? Cue tears. Hoping for better days.
I agree with Katie. I've been smacked and I've cried. Like, yesterday.
Henry has hit me too, and bit his sister so hard she has marks. He used to scratch her face so hard it bleed. She has a scar from one of his scratches.
I've so been there.. Hugs and I promise it gets better. Henry hasn't bit Keira in 6 months. And he is better able to express himself.
Noah will get potty trained. Henry was 5...
Oh the parenting roller coaster. It's a fun, awful, fabulous, bad-word-of-a-ride.
My parenting walk looks a lot different than yours...heck, they are all different. Just know that we ALL have those days. The tantrums, the tears, the melted ice cream cones.
But the thing about us Moms...we push through and we keep going. Because we know that we have the BEST kids...even on bad days.
If I were closer, I would have come over with chips and salsa and a bottle of wine.
Hugs to you, fellow mama.
Oh honey. I'm sorry.
I've had plenty of days like that too. Complete with a 42 lb dead weight that is removed, screaming, from the store. I like to call it "irate spaghetti."
It makes our hearts hurt when our kids are that unhappy.
Hugs!!! I can't completely understand but you know I can pray!
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