THE HOLIDAYS ARE GREAT

Being the parent of children during the holidays brings a certain magic and a very long list of things to get done and worry about. There are gifts to buy, concerts to attend, cookies to bake, a house to clean, parties to attend and family traditions to build.  A child with unique needs amplifies this list and the anxiety that it comes with to a whole new level. I never knew until I shared my stories with others how many of these experiences are common for all of us.

First, there is the gift list. What do you buy your child with differing needs? Do you get them toys designed to augment their development and therapy goals? Should I buy them age-appropriate toys that will frustrate the heck out of both of us and end up in the to-be-donated pile? Maybe, I should buy him what he actually asked for ― wait, he asked for something randomly picked from the toy catalog that came in the mail yesterday. I’m not sure he even understands what that particular toy is. Or, should I continue his favorite collection of toys from last year? Never mind that there are no items left in that collection unless I go to eBay and spend ungodly amounts of money on the ‘original’ series of this toy that he loves. Sigh, the reality is he will spend the day after Christmas playing with the spare sock basket, turning them into imaginary characters that only he understands.

We are late for the school holiday concert. That’s because my handsome young man decided he needed to wear a tie. The only necktie I could find was his father’s. Yes, his father is 6’-5” and wears an extra long tie. Mr. Handsome is 5’ tall, and I have to YouTube a video on how to tie a tie meant for a person three feet taller than Mr. Handsome.  My other children do not understand why I am more nervous than I should be at curtain time. Oh wait, there it is, Mr. Handsome is adding his own special touch to the concert. Doesn’t every child do their own dance to the Frosty song? Tears from laughter and pride erupt as he is out there hugging the choral director and doing a double, triple bow to the adoring fans he has created during a seven-minute concert. His peers are high-fiving and not embarrassed in the least, inclusion at its finest.

The family is packed, and we are on time for the trip to Grammie’s house. This is where my anxiety level really starts to go up. How will he react to all of the new situations he’s about to encounter? Will he actually hug his grandparents this year, or will I get the lecture about how hard he is to discipline? What about the dogs? I know that we have a dog, but they have more than one and not one of those nice dogs is our dog. What about that smoke alarm in the hotel room. Will it blink in such a way that Mr. Handsome Now Turned Sleepless will turn into a screaming over sensitized tantrum? Oh, thank goodness there is a pool, and I did pack his swimsuit. Finally, something that he actually enjoys doing, and a safe place for him to go and be himself.

It’s time to eat. This could get messy. It could go well, or really not well at all. Did I pack the appropriate cup? Wait, did Grandpa just say he’s not sure he has ketchup? It’s a major food group in our house! I dig past the pickled herring, the fancy mustard, and the adult yogurt to find a small bottle of ketchup. Hmm, I ponder, I didn’t know they made ketchup bottles this small. My daughter asks for the expiration date to make sure that the younger sibling is not about to be poisoned. Only one year expired I exclaim! Daughter frowns. Poor husband hunts down the keys to the car and heads to the store. I sure hope he buys another bottle of wine. The screaming child is appeased with ice cream while Grandmother frowns that we were not allowed ice cream so close to dinner. No worries, mom, I console, the young child will not eat what you have painstakingly prepared anyway. We are in our pancakes and hot dog phase. Yes, we serve them together, mom, with ketchup!

After the holidays are over I will post on social media about the great memories we shared this holiday season. As I hit post, I will have that nagging feeling that saying the holidays were ‘great’ is a bit of stretch. Then two or three years from then I will marvel at how the travel this year was so much better than last year and how glad I am that we kept trying. I will scroll through the pictures and notice that he actually ate at the table with his cousins. I will remember how glad I am that my mom got to see my little man and know him at least a little before she passed away. My other kids will ask to continue the crazy traditions and recount the goofy memories we created during those trying times. I may even write a blog post to share my crazy holidays with others who I know will understand.