Wednesday, December 7, 2016


Tad turned 3 last month. Since I have a newborn, he got a boxed cake mix with tub frosting and some figurines stuck on top. (Though the figurines were $$$. Thanks, Disney.)

He was napping when I made the cake and we showed it to him first thing when he woke up. I wish I had videotaped the rapturous look that crossed his face when he saw it. I wish I could be sure of remembering it forever. Because it is so very rare, even three years in, for me to feel like I'm getting this right. I'm probably not, on the whole, but at least I get that one moment when I guessed exactly the kind of cake he wanted.

I feel like I should write more here; something sentimental and motherly. I'm not very good with the motherly sentiment, though, as evidenced by the fact that I have been procrastinating on this post for three weeks. He's my impossible baby; he's my fixed point in time, and I love him fiercely but not in a way that makes for touching blog posts.

How about this, though. A while back I was listening to this song in the car and suddenly heard it as a mom of a severely speech delayed child. (And cried, of course, because as I mentioned above I just had a baby.)

He needs me even when he doesn't have the words.

And maybe I need him in the same way.


Nora Roisin said...

I think my mum would feel your pains at not saying 'touching' things. I don't think you need to, frankly, because you probably do love him fiercely, and all the better, while not saying the 'cutesy' things people usually do (I have a hard time believing they mean it; it's so cliche and trite, so thanks for not giving me the same confusion here).

Also, I don't really want/need to read 'sweetly touching' things on a blog; I prefer down-to-earth-ness; that's what touches me. I like reading your bloggings. A different perspective on mothering is a breath of relief, and if I ever venture down that path, I might be another kind of person who will be weird at it, too, though probably more in the vein of being a different-kind-of motherly type person, as I tend to be 'sweet' in my own way. I think you are, too, but maybe most people don't see that as kindness/sweetness because they don't understand it as well. (That word is a weird word to use describing people. 'You're frosting (ick)!')

Just 'cause everyone else is doing it doesn't mean it's the right/best thing!

etteloc said...

Apart from situations of actual abuse, I tend to agree with the phrase "you are the best parent for your child." It still takes me by surprise when other parents claim to have the best method of doing it right. The whole parenthood thing is as much chance as anything. You are doing your best by him. The part where you're doubting yourself is evidence of this.

I agree with Nora about believing people who constantly bombard the world with their cute parenting. I think it's saccharine -- sickly sweet and fake. I don't think it's a good long-term view of parenting (she said naively, six months postpartum with her first child) because kids aren't a lifestyle item, and looking for cute doesn't handle the complexity of needs a growing child has. They're themselves first, and then your children.

I would recommend picking up the book "Far From The Tree" by Andrew Solomon. It's long, complex, sometimes harrowing, but a very very good look at families coping with having a child outside the norm.

Take care of yourself! You've got a lot on your plate. You're doing okay. For now, it's enough.

Merry Christmas from a long-time reader, sometimes commenter.