I’m not perfect but I am perfect for them


I have a confession to make: I got annoyed at my children today! What? You have done that too? Seriously why are we so afraid as parents to admit we are less than perfect.

 
Last week I took my kids to the dentist at the wrong time. I sent my son to school the week before without any lunch. He is not able to talk so could not tell anyone. I blame sleep deprivation personally.

 
I do my best. It is what we all do. 

 
But still we never seem to feel we get it right all the time. That feeling is magnified when your children have extra support needs.

 
I remember eagerly buying push along toys, walkers and sit on cars for my toddlers, only to have them sit unused in a corner as my son was three before he walked, by which time they were all far too small for him. I tried to do the right thing, the ‘perfect’ thing, but for my children it was anything but perfect.

 
I sang nursery rhymes with my babies. I read to them, talked to them all the time and blew bubbles. Yet still my 8 year old to this day can’t say a word. I did all the right things but for him it just wasn’t to be.

 
I bought this wonderful potty for my kids. You know the ones that sing to them when they pee and even looks like a toilet. That was a total disaster!

 
I took my pre-schoolers to museums, cafes, soft plays, garden centres and farms. One of them screamed all the time and the other was terrified. What seemed the perfect thing to do was in fact anything but for my autistic children who struggled with sensory overload everywhere we went. 

 
imageSo I decided to stop being the perfect parent and instead become the perfect parent to THEM. That meant taking my son to see lifts. It meant taking them on train rides and joining in games of lining up toys. It meant accepting them for just who they are and allowing them to be autistic.

 
The best toys I ever bought them were second hand. I gave up full time work to care for them so I can attend all their meetings, keep up with all their teams of professionals and ensure they get the support they both need. It means I am there to keep the routine they need to feel secure and calm my son when he is in meltdown.

 
Being the perfect parent for them means sometimes making the same meal every night for a week just to see them eat. It means trailing shops to find the only juice my daughter will drink. It means cutting out labels in their clothes and ensuring the materials are soft and not too ‘busy’ so as not to upset them. img_0046It means reading the same bedtime story every night for two years in exactly the same way. It is answering the same question for the hundredth time and remaining patient.

 
Do I get annoyed at them? Of course I do. I am human. Do I annoy them? Absolutely! Do we love each other and hug often? Yes we do. 

 
I am never going to be that parent who shows off a shelf full of trophies my child won at dancing or football. I am not going to be the parent who home makes Halloween costumes or bakes the most incredible birthday cakes. My kids have way too much screen time than is recommended and my son can’t even write his own name at 8 years old!

 
But I know what triggers a meltdown in my son and how to avoid it. I know what makes my daughters anxiety reach sky high and can work through this with her. I know the limitations of my sons eye sight and the fact he can not see pale colours. I know exactly what reading book my daughter has this week and what characters she is into just now. I know their routines for bedtime and school days and follow them like a robot so as not to upset them.

 
Those things don’t make me the perfect mum, but they do make me perfect for them.

 
I am blessed to have them. We are blessed to have each other. None of us are perfect but together we are the perfect team.

I’m still here, and I still love you

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Though you have just this minute screamed so loud in my ear that my entire head is ringing. I still love you. Though you have laid on the floor hitting your head in anger and frustration, throwing everything in sight about, I still love you. When you bang the table and spin your dinner plate in annoyance because I am not cooking your dinner fast enough, I still love you. When I lifted you to safety because you were about to walk head first into the corner of the kitchen work top and you rewarded me by biting me. Even in that moment, when the pain went right through me, I never stopped loving you. When you wake me up screaming and making noise in the smallest of the small hours through the night and I find myself getting frustrated and exhausted. When I roll you over, whisper in your ear quietly and give you your dummy once again because I know you need to try and sleep. Even in the middle of the night I’m still here. And I love you. I love you in all your pain, in all your frustrations, in all your laughter and in all your flapping and chest beating. I love your quirky ways and sense of humour. Even when it seemed, during the 276 days you solidly and religiously only wore your school jumper every day (yes even on Christmas day) I was sighing inwardly. I love how you thought it so funny to wear a blue top, just like that, after so long, only to go right back to only wearing that same red jumper again every single day. Even when I could cry, or I walk away to gather my patience once again. Even when I put you on the naughty step or take you to your room, even when I tell you ‘finished’ and ‘no’, even when it seems like I am the last person you feel cares, right then, I’m still here. And I still love you.

When you stamp your feet at me, shout at me and demand of me, and I tell you off for being rude or cheeky. Right there, at that moment when you want to walk right away from me and never talk to me again, right at that precise moment, I still love you. When you play with your toys and accidentally smash my favourite mug, or spill hot tea everywhere, or pull the toy right at the bottom of the pile knocking boxes of various things flying across the room. When my mouth says ‘stop that right now’ or ‘that’s it’ or ‘I’ve had enough’, my heart is still full of love even when my emotions get the better of me. When you wake up in the middle of the night from a scary dream and you call out my name. It doesn’t matter if I am not right there in your room. I am still here, and I still love you. When things are tough at nursery, when you just can’t seem to speak or work through your anxieties, when your one and only friend is not in that day and your heart sinks, I might not be holding your hand, but I am right there. When the dentist visits again and you instantly have flashbacks to the trauma of having your teeth coated with fluoride and how the very taste made you vomit because you could not bring yourself to spit out the excess stuff, I am right there. I have gone before you and prepared a way out. When I know it will just be too much for you I ticked that box that said ‘I do not wish my child to take part’. Because I love you. And I know how much you can bare. When I ask you to be quiet in full conversation because the phone just rang and you get frustrated because you didn’t get to finish what you wanted to say, when I push you to try on pants again when you would rather stay in nappies, when I get you to try and dress yourself when you would prefer I did it for you, it is all because I care. When you are struggling to pull those trousers and pants up when you have just sat in the toilet and you feel I have left you alone in your embarrassment and shame, I haven’t. I am watching, praying, pushing, stretching you and helping. I’m still here. And I love you. In the tears and the frustrations, in the moments you want to be alone, in the moments you are afraid or worried, in the moments of excitement and laughter, in all of those and more, I’m still here.

When the silence isn’t because we are a peace but rather because words have got lost in the stress of another long day. When you are leaving out one door as I am coming in from the other. When you can’t see any joy in the week through the stream of appointments and commitments. When the sum total of our kisses seem to be a quick peck on the cheek. When night and day become a non stop blur that never seems to end and intimacy is pulling the duvet closer around you. When the flame of love is a spark barely still flickering. When you have tripped over one stray toy too many, heard the same clip of dvd so often you are tempted to see if the dvd can be fried for lunch one day, and there is no longer any laughter at the dinner table. When you are still clearing away the dishes from the previous meal whilst I am cooking the next one. When you drive the car to get groceries and you are temped to sit in the car park for half an hour before going in just to get time on your own. When you have a head ache that has gone on so long you start to forget what it is like to no longer have one. When the only hand you hold is a young child’s to help them down the stairs when once you used to hold hands with your best friend and lover. When you dread the school holidays because you just don’t know what to do with the kids anymore. When your child wants pushed on the swing for so long you start to lose feeling in your arm and your chin is growing a beard while you stand there. When it seems hope is lost, the clouds will never move and the hill will never be conquered. In all those times I am still there. Still praying. Still holding on. Still loving you. We will get through this.

When you have given up on me. When you think all is lost. When hope seems a distant memory. When you sit in the middle of the floor when the children have gone to bed and the tears won’t stop. When your heart aches just to be close to someone. When you think you just can’t face another day…don’t despair my child. I know it is hard. I know some days you just feel so alone. But I need you to remember something, my precious one: I’m still here. And I still love you.

“Because you are precious in my eyes, …and I love you…for I am with you.” Isaiah 43:4-5
“And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Matt 28:20
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases” Lam 3:22