Mother’s Day: Cloudy with a Chance of Gosling.

Is it sunny yet?  No?  What the heck!  My back”yard” is starting to get very sink hole-y/quicksandy.  I will not be surprised if one of these mornings I awake and find a tree has slid into the old barn on the other side of the fence, creating a new escape route for PX.  Eeep. 

All the rain aside, this week has been the hardest week for me since the kids’ evals in February.  And it has nothing to do with the munchkins; they haven’t been overly difficult or had a rough week.  It’s just me, a momism, thanks to Mother’s Day on Sunday.  Oh Mother’s Day, that bittersweet bitch of a holiday.  I will explain.

One of my favorite things as a child, and looking back on my childhood, was making gifts for my family (mainly my mom).  I grew up in a culturally diverse yet heavily Catholic area so there was always something to celebrate.  ALWAYS.  Preschool to middle school, art projects for holidays and festivals were a staple of our curriculum, and I quickly grew to love giving my mom macaroni portraits and hand-drawn cards and tissue paper flower bouquets and Play-Do dishes and allllllllllllll that stuff.  By the time I was 10 I valued our time together spent looking through bags and boxes of my past creations. 

So naturally, when I’d daydream about being a mom to my hoard of children, I began to look forward to getting my own hand-crafted kid gifts.  Of going to work wearing my snazzy elbow macaroni necklace and #1 Mom puffpaint t-shirt.  Of hearing “I love you, mommy.”

But now, on my 3rd Mother’s Day weekend, after weeks of therapies and awaiting evals and special needs playgroups, I don’t know when I’ll ever get that. 

I could *probably* ignore this for one final year, if it all hadn’t been impacted at Tuesday’s playgroup.  The daily project?  A Mother’s Day drawing.  PX was pretty into scribbling and putting on stickers, he even let his teacher put his little thumbprints on it to make a flower.  It was cute, and I was feeling good about his interested level in drawing, and started to tear up.  

And then she told PX “Give it to mom!”  And then I cried. 

Because he couldn’t understand her command.  PX can’t understand how to give someone an object.  14 months of us trying to teach him “give ____ to _____” and he just doesn’t fucking get it.  Every typical kid his age, many younger, I have known can give an object to someone.  But not mine.

So, I cried.  I stopped being positive, and stopped looking for the bright side, and got upset and pissed off and cried.  Because why the hell does everything have to be difficult for my kid, my sweet little booger face?  Why does he have to try extra hard to do things that are supposed to come naturally?  Why can’t PX at least understand how to hand me a picture?  And why does his sister have to struggle, too?  Why?!

Rough week indeed.  Thankfully it’s Friday and that means memes to make me laugh at the linky on Adventures in Extreme Parenthood, especially with this week’s picture.  I’m pretty sure Ryan just wants me to hop in and get dirty, but maybe it’s wishful thinking. ;)

Only for you, Ryan.  Only for you.

For all the mamas & papas in bloggyland dealing with shittastic educators; Ryan gives y’all some Billy Madison rogue justice.

In honor of PX finally getting over his vacuum fear, after 13 months of tearful meltdowns every time it came out of the closet.  Now, it’s his favorite tag partner, just like when he was an infant.

Oh thank god, the kids are heavy into hiding things again lately.  Think they’re playing “squirrel.”  I don’t like that game.

And in honor of it being Mother’s Day on Sunday, Ryan did want all the special needs mamas to know just how wonderful and covered in awesomesauce we are.

I knew Justin and Andy had some help with that tune, mwahahaha.

Oh hellz yes!  *BOOM* Ovaries = gone.


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