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Entering the World of Beauty Pageants

Last year my daughter came to me and said she decided she wanted to get more involved in school and do more than just dance team. She wanted to participate in the school’s beauty pageant.

This caught me totally by surprise. A beauty pageant?!!!???

I’ve long held the idea that my daughter could have modeled throughout her childhood. She’s beautiful and I’ve had plenty of people confirm that. But while I have flirted with the idea, I’ve also shied away from it and the larger beauty industry.

Beauty pageants to me, demonstrate some of the worst ideas of our society: Let’s judge people on their beauty or lack thereof and even rank them so that they know they don’t measure up. Even more, let’s show them that beauty only exists with this one style or look. This is something I have fought against my entire life. Why would I want my daughter to go up on a stage and be exposed to that kind of judgment?

I agreed to let her do the beauty pageant with misgivings. And when I found out more about the beauty pageant, my misgivings increased. They would be judged on their looks only, as they walked across the stage and posed for the judges, their accomplishments were read off. There was no talent competition where a girl could at least show off what she was good at. There were no questions where a girl could show off her intellect. Looks and their ability to walk across the stage in a fancy dress and heels was what it came down to.

I went to the pageant night with trepidation. I worried about what my daughter’s feelings would be when it was all over. She’s VERY competitive.

Was it all bad? No.

I was proud of the courage she had to even do this in the first place. I was stunned at the beautiful self-confidence and self-possession my daughter had as she walked across the stage. But even better than that? She was proud of herself and had fun. I was proud of her for not being afraid to try something new and being willing to stand up in front of people and be judged.

Did it change my ideas of the world beauty pageants? Not really.

But it was an experience I don’t regret for either of us. And it’s a good thing, as she’s going to do it again this year.

Will It Be My Fault?

I sometimes think back to the early years of my kids lives. They were born in 2006 and 2007. Until 2015 I dealt with debilitating back pain. In 2013 I had my first back surgery which didn’t work. In 2015 I had my second surgery and almost 8 years later I’m still doing well.

But those early years meant a lot of mom laying on the couch or bed, trips to doctors, emergency rooms, and chiropractors. When we were preparing for my second surgery my daughter was terrified what would happen to her and her brother. She remembered that after the first surgery I couldn’t do much. Who was going to take care of them? Who was going to feed them?

As I remembered this today, it struck me that my husband and my roles are reversed now. He is frequently in hospital, or at doctors when I can drag him there (men!)., in bed and not feeling well. Now they worry about him.

Who is going to be there for them when he cannot?

Parents are central to a child’s survival and psyche. It is from them a lot of our self talk comes from. It is from them often we learn to rely a lot on others or be very independent.

I worry that because of all the physical pain I was dealing with, which in turn greatly affected my mental health, I was not enough. Add to that dealing with other people in the family’s mental health and the strain it put on me.

Did I raise children who will sit on a therapist’s couch one day because their mother ruined them? Because she wasn’t emotionally or physically available?

As they are teenagers now, I wonder through these years of their hating me one minute and breaking down to tell you they love you the next. Did I fill their needs? They were fed and clothed.

Will My Kids Say I Was Enough?

“Did I fill their needs? They were fed and clothed.

Did they know they were loved? I tried to spend quality time with them.

Was it enough?”

You Never Thought You’d Deal With Truancy

“Having a special needs child often means that our kids miss a lot of school. So to prevent entanglements with the truancy officer, learn from my experiences and make sure you get every single doctor’s note turned in.”
Read more…

What Going Back To Work Has Taught Me

“It has been good for me to relearn my shortcomings and learn to let things go. It’s been good for my family to learn the world (or Mom) doesn’t revolve around them all the time. Reaching for my dreams has sparked a fire in me that makes me happy. “
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Triggers: Because of Trauma

I haven’t been writing as much about my son and his special needs. There are a lot of reasons for that. Part of it is because as he grows older I have come to realize that it is his story to tell and he deserves to have that right to share when and if he pleases.

At the same time, I have a story too, and I think it’s important to share my story and be honest about what it is like raising a child with special needs. This story hasn’t ended even though I share less about it. This story is part of who I am now.

The end of May marked the end of school for my children and they are out for the summer. Their Dad and I both work so they are home alone and are probably loving that we aren’t there making them get up before noon as they are teenagers now.

About seven years ago, we started using doorknobs with key pads. At that time our son was really struggling. It was for safety so that when things got out of control his sister and I could escape to a room to be safe. We also use them on our pantry because he cannot control his eating. He has access to plenty of food, but having a place he cannot get into ensures there’s some food left over for the rest of us. These doorknobs have worked REALLY well for us.

As I said, my children are home for the summer, and my daughter didn’t want to get out of bed yet and get the Cheerios out of the pantry that my son wanted for breakfast. So she told him the code.

SHE TOLD HIM THE CODE!

We started using these doorknobs when the doctors were telling us to send our daughter to live with someone else so she would be safe. During a time when she was thrown into a coffee table with glass that broke and had bruising all over her torso. During a time I had to go have X-rays to ensure my back was okay after being kicked right after back surgery.

This has not been our story for the last couple of years. He’s much calmer and more in control. Food is still very much an issue, but safety is less so at this time.

But what I didn’t realize is the psychological comfort those doorknobs provided me, knowing there were places he couldn’t get to, where we could be safe. This loss has triggered my anxiety big time. It really caught me off guard. Add to that, it was during a time when my husband was out of town, the one person who could control our son when he got out of hand.

I DID NOT FEEL SAFE.

Nothing in my son’s manner caused this. He was doing his usual things and not being threatening in any way. But this was my response to the situation.

Because of trauma.

My trauma response was to immediately feel threatened. For my anxiety to spiral out of control quickly.

This is my story. My response. It isn’t wrong or right, it just is.

Knowing this, I can name my reaction for what it is. I can understand that my reaction is a normal reaction due to my experiences.

I give myself grace.

That being said, it’s also okay to know that I might have to take more of my emergency meds for a while. That things that normally don’t trigger me anymore may start triggering me again. It’s something I have to work through. Whether we get new doorknobs that he doesn’t know the code to, or I learn to let go and breathe, or something else. I will work through this.

This is my story and I choose to tell it.

MASH and Autism

I have fond memories of laying on the living room floor watching MASH with my Dad when I was little. My husband spent 23 years in the military so he’s a big MASH fan. My kids surprisingly love it too. But what does MASH have to do with Autism?

My husband found a book written by the actor who plays Father Mulcahey in the MASH series. It turns out, he and his wife raised a son with Autism. The book details their struggles to find answers and help for him.

If you follow me on Goodreads- or even here for that matter, you’ll know I read a lot. Last year’s number of books read was 108. But there is one narrow genre of books I almost never read any more.

Books about Autism.

When our son first received his diagnoses I over indulged, and then the life that was being described within the pages of the books became all too real. I just couldn’t.

My husband encouraged me to read the book Mixed Blessings by William (Father Mulchey) and Barbara Christopher. So I read it.

Their journey started 50 years ago. I found the book both fascinating and horrifying as I read what they tried, what was recommended by professionals at the time, and how much dedication they put into trying to help their son.

But overwhelmingly? I found it unbelievably depressing to find that things haven’t changed all that much. That many of the things they struggled with- IEP’s, doctors, therapies, shear exhaustion- we are still dealing with these exact same issues 40 and 50 years later. I can’t tell you how heartbreaking this is to realize.

This is why I don’t read books on living with Autism.

Take Your Medicine And Other Self-Care Tips

“As parents of special needs children, we are preached a religion of self-care. We are told repeatedly we have to make time to take care of ourselves or we won’t be able to take care of anyone else. That’s all well and good, but when I was in the thick of the worst of special needs parenting having no idea what I was doing or how to make it through?
I wanted to punch every person who said that to me.”
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To Ban or Not To Ban, That is the Question

“Reading widely taught me several things. To name just a few, it taught me the value of learning about other people’s perspectives. This has changed my mind and helped me to better understand situations on more occasions than I can count.
It taught me how to curate my own reading. There are only so many hours in a day. Which books am I going to read? Was I going to waste my time on books that weren’t worth my time? Both of those were extremely valuable lessons.”
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A New Year, Still The Same Me

“We’ve made it to 2022.
We were so hopeful for 2021, and in many ways, with COVID still raging its ugly head those hopes were dashed. I’m not sure if we should celebrate 2022 or spend time in fasting and prayer pleading for deliverance. Whatever 2022 brings, it will likely be unexpected and both heartbreaking and joyful at times.’
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