Category Archives: Parenting

I Want to Quit Homeschooling

It’s the beginning of the year. December has come and gone—and with it, Christmas break.

I think I’d like to stay on break for the next four years.

Relate much?

Last week, I went upstairs to organize our school shelves so that we’d be ready to start fresh today. I thought I’d shuffle some papers around and tidy up a bit.

The place was a mess. In the rush to Christmas vacation, they (those people who claim to be my well-taught, well-trained, tidy children) had thrown all their stuff in piles. There were piles everywhere. Under the table, behind the couch, on the bookshelves and stuffed behind the door. (So that’s where that last load of laundry went.) I was a little annoyed, but I had a Plan B in mind just in case it was a disaster. (Plan A was a 10 minute-tidy.) It was such a mess that I found my laptop charger, fired up Netflix and set to sorting through and organizing.

Before long, I was in a fairly, shall we say—bad mood. Even watching old episodes of Downton Abbey wasn’t helping. The deeper I dug into the mess, the more upset I became. I started talking to myself. Soon, my talking turned into ranting:

“These kids! They never put their stuff away! I’m always cleaning up after them!”
{Slam old papers into the garbage. Stub my toe—the same one that always pays for it when I’m angry.}

“Why doesn’t anyone ever put the lids back on the highlighters? Is it that hard?”
{Throw four million dried out pens away.}

“I’m so mad! You kids didn’t finish the last three days of work! That’s called d e c e i t in case anyone’s listening!!”
{…throw the last three days of work in the garbage—undone.}

I wanted a break. I wanted to take my kids down to the school district and enroll them. I entertained visions of quiet days and a clean house as I purged, tossed and organized. I imagined what those shelves would have on them if they weren’t crammed with eighteen years worth of math, science, history, grammar and handwriting books.

It’s funny. I was doing the thing I always tell my kids NOT to do: I was letting my frustration determine my attitude. Like many tired homeschool moms, I just wanted to forget about homeschooling for a few more weeks—but I know my own schedule. Two weeks of a break is all we can afford this year. I had two options: quit or keep going.

For the next hour and a half, I struggled to create order out of the leftover Christmas chaos.

Hot tears began streaming down my face as I thought about all that I had on my plate besides homeschooling. “Why am I even doing this? Does it really matter? I hate this! I want to QUIT!”

Just then—because God knows when we’ve had enough—I heard a little knock on the door. I dried my eyes. The door opened and two big brown eyes peered in at me from under little blonde bangs. “Mommy? Are you okay? The kids said you were crying. Are you missing grandpa too? Are you mad? …Would you like my cookie?”

A cookie. I suddenly felt very foolish. We sat down on the floor and ate the cookie, me and the youngest of our seven, surrounded by big white garbage bags and a lot of self-pity. I was embarrassed to admit that I wasn’t grieving the loss of grandpa. I told my little one the truth: I was just mad and feeling sorry for myself.

She seemed okay with that. I get the feeling four-year olds do it, too.

As we sat there eating our cookie, God worked on my heart. Looking at my four-year old daughter, I thought about how patient God is with me. In all my years of walking with Him, He hasn’t quit on me—and goodness knows, I’ve certainly deserved it from time to time.

About the time we were done with our cookie, I noticed a homeschool notebook from ten years ago sitting on a shelf. It belonged to my now 23 yr old daughter. When I opened it, my heart smiled. Beautiful hand-drawn images danced across the pages. She loved to draw. We discovered this when she was in 6th grade. The life cycle of a salmon. The anatomy of a flower. A report on George Mueller. A drawing of her baby sister. A poem for winter. A terrible drawing of me with really bright red lips … kissing her dad.

My attitude was softening as I thumbed through pages. Those years went by so fast—and these years—they’re going by fast, too.

Saylor and I spent the next few minutes looking through old notebooks from her older brothers and sisters. She pointed out things I hadn’t seen in a while—pictures and assignments from kids who are now adults.

What I really needed was not to quit—it was to see things new; to back up and look at the privileged life I lead. Privileged. Homeschool moms get to witness (sometimes after tears!) the first words our children will ever read. Privileged to know everything that’s on the “scope and sequence” for any given school year. Privileged to take an impromptu trip to see the orcas or spend a day at the library when it’s pouring down rain and no one else is there. Privileged to struggle right alongside my kids until we both have an “ah-ha” moment.

It’s been 18 years. I’m realizing that math has precious little to do with the reason we homeschool. Grammar is great—but I’m not homeschooling so my kids will have a shot at a high SAT score (although it’s a nice side-benefit.) I’m not homeschooling to feel good about myself. I’m not homeschooling so that I can say that I do it. (Good grief.) I’m not homeschooling for prestige or for accolades from our kids. I’m not doing it for peace and quiet. If that’s the reason, then I really do … QUIT.

I’m homeschooling our children because I realize what a precious, privileged opportunity it is. I’m homeschooling because I believe it’s a privilege for our children. I’m homeschooling because I know it’s the best thing for our kids—and the best things often require sacrifice.

If you want to quit homeschooling, take a step back. I’m not saying homeschooling is “the answer” but if you’ve been called, don’t quit. Please don’t quit. The finish line isn’t that far off.

You can do it—and it will be worth it.

We Never Thought We Would Have a Big Family

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Years ago, I vividly remember being in the grocery store when a young mother walked in with *gasp* FIVE (yes, I counted) kids. Two were walking beside her, one was holding on the the front of the cart, one was in the cart seat and she was wearing a baby. I thought to myself, “THIS is why people used to stare at me!”

I smiled at her. She had no way of knowing that it was the smile of a mother who really did understand the grace that was over her for that trip to the grocery store. I was on a rare trip to the store by myself. She didn’t stop long enough to see me smiling. My guess is that she is used to people looking at her. I get that, too.

Once, when I was young and free, I imagined my life differently.

In my imagination, I saw a few gorgeous children (maybe three) with my stunningly handsome husband and maybe a bird or a cat. But not both. I was nineteen when I married the stunningly handsome man. He thought a cat was a good idea.

We began to imagine life together. He and his rock-n-roll band, me and my secretary job. And our cat.

When I was twenty-one, a little “+” sign told us life was going to change. Six months went by and then—she arrived. Twenty-one hours of labor was worth it. She arrived—all pink and smelling of the flower that some soul who understood had named for new babies. That was the first time I realized my that my heart was capable of a dug-down-deep kind of love. It was also the first time I understood why they named that delicate, sweet flower “Baby’s Breath.”

Two years and three months later, after a difficult pregnancy—a beautiful second daughter arrived. The life we imagined was starting to take shape. Our little white house with the drafty windows and no insulation was just right. We lived on a pastor’s salary and learned that garage sales were just as good—no—better, than department stores. (We still feel that way, these 24 years later.) We got a set of bins from Target and started to save the clothes our children grew out of: newborn, 3-6mo, 6-9mo, 12mo, 24mo… toddler.

The bins were small. We put them in our small, poorly insulated attic. Sierra wore her sister’s hand-me-downs. Handsome husband (still in a mullet) played in his rock-n-roll band on the weekends. When he was away, I had our two little girls. And a cat.

Our imagining was turning into something.

Three years later, after I begged and pleaded, my husband decided that maybe, just maybe—another baby was not a bad idea. He had just one sibling—I came from a family of seven children. Our imaginings were different. So we compromised. He thought four was a nice, even number. Soon, another “+” sign appeared on an EPT test.

We moved into another little white house. This time, we bought it.. right behind McDonald’s. (The smell of hashbrowns in the morning still makes my heart smile.) We loved our little white house with the damp basement. We fixed up our little fixer-upper, trying our hand at the DIY life.

In July of that year, our son was born. We beamed. Our hearts grew to make room for this little boy. He made us so proud. We added new bins of clothes to our growing bin collection. I wrote in Sharpie on them: “BOY – newborn. BOY: 3-6mo…”

Our next pregnancy found us at a new pastorate, in a new town. After a few weeks of keeping our secret, we made the announcement: we were going to have four children. This was back when we cared what people would say. Happily for us, most of the comments we received were kind. It wasn’t too weird to have four children, we thought. Our imagined life was changing as we prepared to grow again.

About the time we thought we were in the “safe” zone, I went in for a routine ultrasound. I was alone when they told me what every mother hopes to never hear. The image on the ultrasound screen was not moving. I heard words like “non-viable” and “miscarriage” in that dark room. That day I learned a new lesson: each day is precious. Anything can happen. There are no guarantees.

Two years went by before our next son arrived. His birth was sweet, but followed by a terrifying amount of blood loss. Recovery was long and hard, but oh—he was worth it. His smile was captivating. We fell hard for this one. The loss of our last baby seemed to amplify the joy he brought. We thought we knew it before, but now we knew it in a new way: Life is precious.

With the addition of our fourth child, we decided that we were complete. No more babies. Life was getting busier all the time. Birthday parties, homeschooling, more laundry… just more of, well, everything. An uncle gave our daughter a lizard for her birthday. “Leopard geckos are less maintenance,” he said. Contained. Less needy. Except for the crickets. I never imagined myself with a lizard—but she loved “Milo” and we made a little more room. Lizards are cool, I found out.

Just about the time we were feeling like our family fit into a nice, neat little American “category,” we got a surprise.

We call her “Summer.”

I’ll be honest: we were not planning on going over the number 4. Five children meant that we would not fit into a regular booth for six at Red Robin. In meant our car was too small. It meant people would start staring at us and ask us ridiculous questions like “Do you know how that happens” and “Has anyone explained that to you?”

I cried. I really did. I was only thinking of what other people would say—what they would think. I wasn’t thinking of how rich we were becoming. I’m a planner. It wasn’t in our plan to be a “big” family. Since we had chosen to homeschool our children, I knew this ratcheted things up about fifty notches, and honestly? I didn’t know if I could do it.

Summer arrived in the spring of 2003. (We like telling her that.) She fit her name, with beautiful blue eyes (all the others had brown eyes) and blonde hair. The familiar newborn cry filled the air when they handed her to me. If I loved her before, it paled in comparison to how I felt when our eyes locked. Who would turn down such a precious gift?

And so, we were seven. We made room in our hearts and our home for another precious gift, and with that gift, our hearts were changing. Maybe—just maybe, all those people who would count our kids and stare at us in Costco, maybe it didn’t matter what they thought at all.

Meanwhile, our house was becoming, shall we say, a little on the “not quiet” side. Not gonna lie. Things were a little more challenging with five kids. It took longer to go places. More dishes. More laundry.

More love.

More bins. We learned to live frugally—because the children were worth not having a car payment.

In late fall of 2004, Jay spent some time in Russia with members of a Christian band he was playing with. In August of 2005, our little “Russian souvenir” was born. And yes. We planned her. Something had happened in our hearts. We were grateful.

Life moved on. Toddlers became teenagers who loved their baby sisters and toddlers. Life became even busier. We added a parrot to our menagerie. We had two lovebirds as well. Side note: One of them attacked the other one. I don’t know where they get that name. Love birds are anything but “loving.” (You’re welcome.)

In 2009, I wrote my first book. “The Busy Homeschool Mom’s Guide to Romance” was my heart on paper. In it, I said that I thought we were done adding to our family. You can imagine how many times I have been teased about that. I’m thinking it’s in the neighborhood of a million—because, in 2010, we were given one last, precious child.

Our oldest daughter had become a beautiful high school senior. She graduated when I was pregnant. It was a surreal feeling to graduate her knowing that we were soon going to start all.over.again. My heart was full—and so was my closet. With bins of clothes, photo albums, shoes, receiving blankets, nursing wear.

In 2010, just a few weeks before Christmas, our seventh child was born. She was the answer to a prayer we didn’t know we would have when we were young and “free.” We never imagined our hearts could hold so much love. I also never imagined our dishwasher could be run so many times in a day or that the house could be so noisy or that kids could bring me all the way down to my knees—and that God would meet me there.

Is it easy? Absolutely NOT. Are we doing it perfectly? No. But we’re so glad we’re doing it.

It’s now 2020. Four of our seven are grown now, and a fifth is getting ready to graduate from high school. We have three grandkids—and expect many more to grace our family in the future.

It’s been a few years since we imagined our life from the inside of our little white house. I never planned to have a big family, but love changed my mind. Love does that. Love finds bins on sale. Love makes you strong. Love changes your perspective. It helps you see past what’s temporary to what’s lasting.

In the fall of 2013, our childbearing years came to an abrupt end. Our season of bringing children into this world is over. I’m glad we didn’t listen to the naysayers. I’m glad we exchanged our small, cute car for a 9 passenger suburban with a bench seat. I love it that our kids have so many shared memories. I love that the chances of me spending my twilight years alone are next-to-zero, because that rock-n-roll boy of mine and I hope to be surrounded by our children, grand-children and great-grand children.

And yes. I’ll happily look you straight in the eyes now and say without hesitation, “YES. They’re all ours!”

Surviving the Holidays with Autism – It Is Possible!

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As the mom of one child with severe autism (age 19) and another with Asperger’s (age 17), I’ve learned a few tips and tricks over the years for surviving the holidays with kiddos who have autism or other sensory issues. So many children (and adults) now days have sensory issues, and it’s not always easy to know how to handle the holidays with everything that comes along with them : visitors, bright lights, new toys, traveling, new foods, and so on. I hope this information is helpful to you! Of course you may have to tweak things here and there so that they work for your specific child and family, but my prayer is that this will help you head in the right direction.

Think about your child’s sensory needs and triggers ahead of time. If, for example, you have to go somewhere where there will be lots of people, plan ahead of time for a place your child can go for a break from the noise and chaos. A small room might be the perfect place. If that’s not possible, maybe he could even take a break outside in the car. (Just be sure a responsible adult or older teenager can go with him if he’s not where you can easily see him.)
Remember that bright lights and singing Christmas carols may make you happy, but they may be “too much” for an autistic person. You may want to simply ask her if she’d like to leave the room (or stay someplace quiet—possibly with a grandparent or friend)instead of attending an event where there will be lots of bright lights and singing. Also, keep in mind that she may not enjoy driving around town to see the Christmas lights. But be sure to give her a choice! My autistic daughter loves to hear folks sing Christmas carols, but my son finds it very hard to deal with and does not enjoy it at all!
To autistic people, being surprised may cause anxiety! For many years, my daughter refused to open Christmas presents with the rest of the family. It made me so sad that she wouldn’t join in the fun! What I didn’t realize was that being surprised wasn’t fun for her. It made her feel anxious. As she’s gotten older, she’s gotten more willing to open presents with the rest of us as long as she only has 1 or 2 presents to open. This allows her to join in the fun, yet it keeps her from being overwhelmed and feeling anxious.
Keep in mind that many autistic folks don’t like new stuff. Most of us really look forward to opening presents and getting new things. Many autistic people, though, don’t like new things at all! They like what’s familiar to them—the things they’re used to that make them feel safe and secure. It might be a good idea to do what my family has always done. We simply explain to folks (especially friends who want to give my daughter a gift) that Hannah needs time to get used to something before she can begin to enjoy it. Then, in a few days or a few weeks once she’s gotten used to something and is willing to use it, play with it, etc., we take a picture of her with the new item and send it to the gift giver.
Another possibility is to allow your autistic child to open 1 present each day for several days. If getting several new things on the same day causes stress for your child, allow him to open only 1 present each day for several days. You can start opening a few days before Christmas, or you can start on Christmas and finish up on whatever day you run out of gifts.
Make sure all gifts will be ready to use or play with as soon as they are opened. When we wrap gifts for my daughter, we make sure to remove any packaging (such as shrink-wrap that movies and CDs are often packaged in) so that it’s ready the minute she gets it open. My daughter loves stuffed animals. We always make sure all tags have been removed before we wrap any stuffed animals so she won’t have to wait for us to remove tags after she opens the gift.
Practice what to say after opening gifts from friends or relatives! If your child is verbal, it’s a good idea to practice with him ahead of time to be sure he knows what to say and how to respond appropriately after opening a gift. You might have him simply say, “Thank you for the gift!” That way, he won’t say something like, “I already have one of these,” or, “ I don’t like this.” Most autistic folks are completely honest and don’t understand that it’s not always appropriate to say exactly what you think. (Ask me how I know this…)
Do a Christmas count-down. Several days before Christmas (or before a Christmas event such as a gathering at someone’s home or at church), begin counting down the days until the event occurs. Many children will do best with some sort of visual count-down like marking off days on a calendar or making a paper chain and cutting off one link each day. Discuss each day what will happen, who will be there, etc.
Try to keep as many familiar routines, foods, and friends as possible. It’s often best to try to keep your routines as “normal” as possible for an autistic person. Even if that just means getting up and going to bed at the usual times, eating the usual foods at meals (at least the meals that you have at home), and maintaining a daily schedule that includes at least some familiar activities, this will help your autistic child feel more secure and not so anxious and out-of-control.
Prepare to get back to a normal routine once the holidays are over. It’s often very hard for autistic folks to handle a routine that’s completely different over the holidays. It’s also difficult sometimes to get back to the usual routine once the holidays are over. Some children who deal with depression and anxiety may actually have times of sadness and anxiety when the holidays are over and it’s time to get back to school or work, etc. This might be another good time to use a calendar to mark off the days or to use a paper chain and cut off one link each day as the “deadline” approaches.

The truth is that helping your autistic child make it through the holidays can be challenging. But by planning ahead and recruiting help from friends or relatives, you can do your best to help make this holiday season fun and enjoyable for the whole family.

Do you have any tips or tricks to share with other moms of children with autism or other sensory disorders? We’d love for you to share them with us!

Image courtesy of http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/ “Christmas Lights Glowing (blur motion background)” by artur84.

Loving and Living with Your Special Needs Child

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Isn’t it amazing how many lessons we learn from our children? When I began homeschooling, I thought my children were supposed to learn from me. I had no idea that the situation would quite often work in reverse! Over the last few weeks, I’ve learned a really hard lesson. I hope this blesses those of you who struggle with similar situations—especially those who have special needs children.

This story began months ago. I found myself becoming resentful about taking care of my 19-year-old daughter who is severely autistic. You see, for 19 years, I’ve been bathing her, brushing her teeth, dressing her, preparing meals and supervising her eating, dealing with her anxiety and meltdowns and resistance to going places and to being around people, taking care of all of her personal needs, dealing with extreme sensory issues and aversions to most kinds of foods, and homeschooling her at the same time. (We tried a public school program for autistic children as well as having her mainstreamed in a regular-ed classroom, but that disaster story will have to wait until another day.) My daughter is completely non-verbal and has very poor motor skills, so she needs the kind of care that most children only require for the first few years. To be honest, I just got tired.

It seemed as if one day I woke up and thought, “I simply cannot do this one more day.” I was mentally and physically worn out. I had trouble thinking about how I could keep doing this year after year after year—especially since this isn’t something she will grow out of—it’s a life-long situation. I became overwhelmed and stressed and anxious about it. I tried to pray and ask God to give me a better attitude. I tried to reason with myself. I tried to force myself not to feel resentful or angry. But it didn’t work.

Then, a few weeks ago, my daughter suddenly got very sick. The doctor admitted her to the hospital to try to find out what was wrong. (She wasn’t able to tell us what was wrong since she’s non-verbal.) She ended up being in the hospital for a very difficult week. It turned out that she had pneumonia in both lungs and was in a good bit of pain. She had become dehydrated too.

As I was there in the hospital with my daughter, who was completely helpless and dependent on her daddy and me to speak for her, make sound medical decisions, take care of her, and reassure her that things would be better soon, I realized something. I realized that my daughter, even though she can’t express it with words, was always calmer when her daddy and I were close by than when the doctors and nurses were close by. I realize that, if her daddy and I were giving her medication, she took it (mostly) without incident. I realized that, if her drip needed to be changed or flushed out, she would allow me to do it, but she would have had a meltdown if a nurse did it. I realized that she trusted her daddy and me. She knew that we loved her and were there to take good care of her. She wasn’t worried that we were trying to hurt her. It was then that God brought this verse to mind:

Romans 8:28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.

That’s when my heart began to soften again toward my daughter. That’s when God reminded me that He loves and cares for me no matter whether I’m grateful or obedient or faithful to Him. He allowed me to see my daughter as He sees me—helpless, not knowing the best way to take care of myself, not understanding at times what is going on around me or why or what to do about it. But just like my daughter was completely dependent on her daddy and me, if I will allow Him, God will comfort me, show me the right path, take care of me…just like my daughter trusts me to do for her. It was at that point that I began to realize what a privilege it is to have a daughter who loves me and trusts me that much!

My daughter is much better now and is completely well. In other words, for her, life is getting “back to normal.” I hope, however, that life never gets “back to normal” for me. I hope instead to remember this hard lesson and to continue to understand that, even on the hard days, God is taking care of us. I know I’ll still have times when my attitude isn’t what it should be toward my daughter (or my other children, for that matter). But I also know that God used this situation to change my heart and give me a new love for my daughter. And I hope I never forget this lesson, and that’s why I’m sharing it with you.

No, God doesn’t always make the way easy for us, but He always loves us and cares for us. And I’m thankful to Him for reminding me that I’m loved and cared for even when I’m going through difficult times. Would I heal my daughter today if it were possible? Yes! But in the mean time, I love my daughter just the way she is.

It is my prayer that, if you are the parent of a special needs child, you will allow God to be your comfort and your strength. You won’t ever be perfect—I’m certainly not. But I believe that God honors our efforts and sees our hearts. And for that I am grateful.

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Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net. “Shoes” by ningmilo.

The Bad Lady

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From the time I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a mommy. I studied moms and how they mothered their children. I thought about how wonderful it would be to care for and nurture those sweet, chubby faced little cherubs. What’s not to love? And I was pretty sure MY kids would love and appreciate me…pretty much ALL the time.

Cue in screaming baby, uncooperative toddler, indifferent grade schooler, defiant teenager. It doesn’t seem to matter what phase of child raising we are in, if we are doing our job well, we are doomed to the role of the “bad lady”.

The “bad lady” doles out consequences as needed in order to allow her children to learn valuable lessons that prepare them for real life. Sometimes that requires action, sometimes it requires doing nothing and letting natural consequences teach the lesson. She has rules and boundaries and does not take kindly to the crossing of those. She knows that it’s better in the long run for her child to learn these things early on rather than being smacked down harder by them as an adult. She also knows that as much as she wants to be her children’s best friend, it’s far more important for her to be their mother. I don’t care how you dice it, parenting is hard. We love our kids, we want what’s best for them and unfortunately, that often means we have to make decisions that are not appreciated.

No one likes to be the “bad lady”. It’s not fun. Not even close. In fact it really rots sometimes. Somehow we feel like we are the only ones who are feeling this way, but I guarantee you that there are plenty of other moms out there who feel like the “bad lady” more often than not. You are not alone.

Just the other day, I reminded our 14 year old (and myself) that I am not his peer (so he was not allowed to speak to me like one), I am not even necessarily his friend. I am his mom. Before you criticize this saying they do not have to be mutually exclusive, I agree – sort of. There is an age where the relationships turns into that of friends, but a friend doesn’t have authority over another and when I’m raising my children, I do. I can be a mom who listens and encourages and entertains, but at the end of the day, I’m still a mom.

I’ve had eight children. Two are married with babies of their own. One is in college. And you know what? They are my biggest supporters now when it comes to not letting up on the younger five who are still at home. So believe me when I tell you it’s worth it. Our kids will be adults far longer than they will be children, so seize the moment and wear the badge of the “bad lady” proudly! They probably won’t appreciate it now, but they’ll thank you later!

5 Tips For Getting Out The Door Faster

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Our family has been through a huge transition over the past few months. After 8 years of homeschooling, we enrolled our kids in a small, private Christian school in our town! So, for the first time in 12 years of mothering, we are finding ourselves needing to be a little, teensy bit better about preparation, organization and getting out the door in the mornings on time.

Even if your kids aren’t in school, you might need to get out the door earlier for church, homeschool co-op or just a doctor’s appointment. We all have times when we have to be somewhere at 8am! And as the holidays are upon us, it seems there is always somewhere else to go, right?

Now, I will preface this post by saying I’m an on-time person. Or even early, generally speaking. I have an almost compulsive quality about me that drives my husband nuts. If something starts at 8am, I do NOT want to be walking in at 8am. I want to be there, in my seat and have everything I need for the event around 7:55am-ish. So, that said, I hope this post will still help you even if you tend to be one that runs late everywhere you go. I think we can all make progress and do better in this area, even if you generally are on time most days!

5 Tips for Getting Out The Door Faster

1. Prepare as much as possible the night before. I *might* be a tad bit compulsive about this too. I walk around my house at night looking for something, anything I can do that might help the morning go better. I help my kids find shoes, clothing, everything they will need BEFORE they go to bed. I set out all their lunch boxes, water bottles, and backpacks. I look through the backpacks at night to pull out papers I might have missed or needed to look at. Everything is ready to go.

2. Get up 10 minutes earlier. This one is hard; I really, really like my sleep. But, if you can make yourself get up a little bit earlier, isn’t it worth that lack of frustration in running around your house like a mad woman? I have noticed that when I am up, even a few minutes earlier than my kids, I am more calm when they lose a shoe or take 20 minutes to brush their teeth. {grin}

3. Make bedtime smooth and earlier. This is another hard one. But, if your kids are up late watching tv (or even mom, ahem) getting up earlier will be even harder! That bedtime routine you had when your kids were toddlers? Don’t stop! Keep that routine going or start a new one. They may not need to be in bed by 7:30pm anymore, but as my kids get older, it is still important to me that they get enough sleep!! START the bedtime process 30 minutes earlier than you intend for them to go to sleep. Have your children help you in walking around the house looking for backpacks, shoes and whatever they will need to get going in the morning.

4. Pack a tote bag for each day of the week, or each outing in your week. I’ve done this in the past with a pool bag. I keep sunscreen, goggles, the pool pass and anything I need at the pool IN THE BAG and I don’t pack, unpack, repack that bag every time we go to the pool! Have a bag like this for your weekly co-op, have a bag ready for church. When you walk in from co-op, hang it on a hook and it’s already ready for next week!

5. Turn on upbeat praise music. I saved my favorite for last. I can’t tell you how many bad moods a little Mandisa had zapped away in my household, mom included! Sometimes, out of desperation and just not wanting to hear one more, “I can’t find my shoe! HE THREW MY SHOE! Mommy, make him find my shoe!” I turn on the radio in our kitchen and turn it up. So maybe this would be considered avoidance. I like to think of it is as pointing my children to Jesus. {grin} Sometimes we need a little re-focus and music is just the way to do this. So, if you want to be one step ahead of your argumentative children, turn that music on as soon as you wake up the kiddos!! Everyone will walk around the house singing, getting ready, and you will wonder what in the world has gotten into everyone! Actually, as a wise mother, you will know what has gotten into them!! Praise fights off the worst of our enemies!! So get your praise on, first thing in the morning!

I hope these tips help you! I’m sure as veteran busy moms you have some tips for us, too! I would love for you to share in the comment section YOUR best tips for getting moving and out the door in the mornings!

Caring for Yourself While Caring for Your Special Needs Child

7 Replies

Being a mom is one of the best things that has ever happened to me! And it’s also one of the hardest. I love my children just like you love yours, but it’s still so hard sometimes. I used to feel guilty when I admitted—even to myself—that being a mom isn’t always easy. I thought it meant I didn’t love my kids—or at least that I didn’t like them, but after being a mom for 2 decades, I realize that isn’t true and that there’s no need to feel guilty.

And while it’s true that bringing up children is difficult at times, it can be even more difficult when you have special needs children. At times it’s much harder. At times we moms of special needs kids feel so hopeless and helpless.

At times we ask for help from those around us and get rejected or ignored. Sometimes we even get a pat on the back and an “I-think-you’re-doing-such-a-great-job” from those to whom we’re crying out for help. I know I’ve been there.

For years everyone thought I was doing such a wonderful job coping with my severely autistic daughter, my son with Asperger’s, and my younger daughter with ADHD. I tried asking for help. I tried letting folks know that things were getting to be too much for me. But nobody took me seriously. Nobody realized that things really had gotten to be too much for me to handle alone. Until one day I crashed. I completely fell apart.

Looking back, I can see that I wasn’t making myself clear. My family and friends simply thought I needed reassurance and encouragement. They didn’t realize I was warning them that I literally. could. not. keep. going. any. longer. I tried to explain to them in words what I needed, but I couldn’t. I really couldn’t quite admit it to myself, and I certainly couldn’t figure out how to put it into words for someone else to hear. So I gave up. I quit trying to explain it to them. I hung in there as long as I could…until I couldn’t any more.

At that point, several close family members said things like, “I thought you were handling everything so well. I didn’t know you were asking me for help. I had no idea you felt so overwhelmed and buried and burned out. I feel so terrible! Why didn’t you tell me?” The answer was that I had tried to tell them. Over and over I had tried. And they had listened, but they hadn’t understood.

Whether you have “typical” children or special needs children, whether you have one child or 10 children, whether you’re handling things really well or whether you’re struggling, you need support and encouragement and help from others.

If you have friends or relatives nearby who are willing to help, let them! Don’t feel like you’re the only one who can take care of your special needs child. If you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be able to take care of your child. Sooner or later it will catch up with you. I found that out the hard way.
If you don’t have friends or family close by, go to your church family. Many churches—especially larger ones—have ministries for families with special needs children. Even if your church doesn’t have such a ministry, you need to make your needs known and ask for help.
Find out if there’s a caregiver support group near you. If so, other parents of special needs children can provide true understanding and emotional support. Or perhaps you’re friends with another mom or two have children with special needs. Talk to those moms. Share your struggles and ideas and encourage one another. It can help so much just to know that you’re not alone. I know that sounds cliché, but it really is true!
Keep a list of specific needs that you and/or your special needs child have. Be prepared so that when someone says, “Let me know what I can do to help” you’re ready to answer! Jot down ideas for things others can do to help as you think of them. These could be one-time things or something you need on a regular basis. When we’re on the spot or in a hurry, we don’t always think clearly. Keeping this list will help you let folks know how to help you when they offer.
If it is at all possible (and sometimes I know it’s not), give yourself a break and get away—even if it’s just for a few hours or overnight. I know from experience that it’s very hard to leave my special needs kiddos, but I also know that, at least for me, it is absolutely necessary. I’m very blessed to be able to get away once in a while—even if it’s just for a few hours of browsing in the book store or going to see a movie with a friend. If you can possibly get time away, take it! It will be great for you and your child.

We would love to hear your ideas for helping moms with special needs kids or your ideas for how you, as the mom of special needs children, would like to be helped. Please share!

Heidi St. John

Speaking the Truth in Love