When you first receive the diagnosis of special needs mom (cause let’s face it, no matter what diagnosis your child gets, that’s your brand), after you go through the five stages of acceptance, you become gung-ho super mom. You realize willingly that sacrifices have to be made and you offer yourself as the first to take the ultimate plunge. And then somewhere down the line, you sit there in your sweat pants, greasy hair and three day old underwear and you realize “oh, crap. This sucks.” And you shut the windows and doors so no one sees the mess of your house and you lock yourself at home like the crazy cat lady so that no one sees what you have become and you wallow in self pity. That didn’t happen to me of course.
Excuse me while I feed my cats…
A friend of mine recently suggested on facebook that we take the time to write a love letter to ourselves and I was totally up to the challenge. Here is what I wrote to myself (imagine it in fancy script scented in floral perfume):
Dear Tiffay – Your flaws are what make you an untouchable work of art! I love the way you let the dishes pile up in the sink until the end of the day. It makes your husband feel useful. I love that you have gone months without cleaning the shower or the toilet. Your home is open to all living things big and small! I love that by the end of the day your house looks like a toy store blew up in it. It keeps you alert in the dark. I love the layer of dust settling on all your furniture. It covers the scratches and crayon.
I love that you yell at your children. It lets salesmen know to go to the next house. I love that your children spend the entire day in their pjs. There’s a lot less to do at night. I love that you let your kids eat dessert before a meal. It means more food for you and the husband. I love that you get your kids their annual checkups 6 months late. It makes them look advanced for their age. I love that you “forget” to brush their teeth at night. Having cavities make them brush better. I love that you take your kids to fast food once a week. They eat more than if you cooked. …continue reading
