Shame on You

Dear ghkcole,

I've had it with you. This morning I thought I'd write a pissed off letter to the president, but you know what? You make me angrier than his education "plan." After all, at least he's hopeful, working hard to make change, and tackling big stuff (albeit misguidedly with a woefully ignorant idea about standardized testing and teacher "rewards"). You, on the other hand:
1. break your promises 2. dwell on the negative, showing little or no sense of perspective 3. are mean. Someone needs to put you in your place.

Let's start with those promises, shall we? Perhaps you might recall early fall of 2003. I know I do. You were pregnant, and you had some spotting. You negotiated passionately with the universe: if you could just have a healthy baby, you would do ANYTHING, accept anything, work so hard... well, you got a healthy baby. Yes, maybe he grew into a child with autism, (possibly due to either choices you made -- the article on the risk of too many ultrasounds struck a nerve, no? -- or through your own genetics that you've always known to be suspect) but you have a child who can enjoy the world in his own ways. And do you try to enjoy him as much as you should? No. You got what you asked for, and you didn't live up to your end of the bargain. And do you remember the next fall? When a beautiful little girl you loved from a family you love left us all forever? And you promised to always cherish your family, to make the most of every day, to appreciate what you have? PROMISE BREAKER. I know you remember these things, but you sure don't act like it, do you, Mrs. Pity Party?

This dwelling thing -- OH, don't get me STARTED. I am so FURIOUS with you. This morning your little boy woke up, came to you, and pulled you down the hall, saying, "Mommy, come check out my room." You, in your typical fashion, asked what thing he'd done to his room, assuming catastrophe. Instead, when he opened his still dark room to show you the constellations all around from the two night lights he put on together for the first time ever, you had the best morning surprise ever. When he pulled you down into his bean bag chair, you should have felt enough goodness to get you through MOUNDS of crap later in the day, even the week, the month. A morning under the stars with your beautiful child should have put enough in your stamina bank at least to cancel out the calls to and from schools and ists, the kids melting down at the end of the long day, and the bumpy ride home. That is, it should have been enough for a good mom. You, however, were just MEAN, and that brings us to my third point.

Since when have you EVER thought it okay to mutter under your breath negativity about your children in their presence? And do you really think it's okay to have contempt in your voice when your child struggles with potty training problems? Let me tell you this so maybe you get it, toots: He. Has. Autism. Yes, he knows how to use the toilet, but that doesn't mean you can expect him to just do it. This could take a mighty long time, and longer if you keep failing the way you did today. Autism, babe, deal with it. It is what it is. It might be someone's fault or no one's fault or society's fault, but surely, surely, surely it is not your child's fault, and when you freak out over this toilet business, it not only does not help him, it probably HURTS him. Chill OUT, and fast. Or I am going to stop being your best friend. And let's face it, you need me.

Sincerely,
ghkcole