So Many Words

My children had a "field trip" a couple weeks ago. They were going to take the on-demand city bus to McDonald's.

The McDonald's is a little over half a mile from the school.

I was perplexed, to say the least.

(There are other McDonald's. Like, y'all couldn't live it up and ride across town? It's $2 regardless within city limits). However. I do not make the rules. I was not consulted for transport. The trip was intended, or justified, by being framed as the culmination of bus usage training and a chance for the students to learn how to take the bus.

If I were less salty, if I were less cynical, if I were less aware, if the year had gone less badly, I would possibly not have the attitude I do in response to that, but my attitude in response to that is a jumble of "how is this ever going to help them if they are someday older and need to take the bus because the app/process will 100% change" and "why do we assume, always, that the issue is lack of knowledge" and "why do we assume that if the issue is lack of knowledge the answer is essentially discrete trial training -- fuck ABA forever -- and not, I don't know, actual critical thinking." I mean we know why. Anyway.

So the bus/McDonald's trip became something to riff on for me for a week or so because why are you taking a bus??? Why not walk? The weather is beautiful, the children need exercise, fresh air!!! or why are you going only that far, enjoy the bus!!! but no.

Whatever. I sent them with $20 each and direct instructions to "go wild."

My son got a sandwich, fries, a Dr. Pepper, a milkshake, and a 10 piece nugget. YOLO.

My daughter got a sandwich, fries, a Dr. Pepper, possibly a milkshake? Possibly not? and was going to get a 10 piece nugget to share with her friends but the aide told her no, that's too much.

IT'S MY MONEY.

HER TWIN BOUGHT THAT EXACT QUANTITY OF FOOD.

Anyway, none of this is the point of the entry, the point of the entry is this:

My journey over the past few years has been one of being increasingly aware of everything, increasingly having the capacity to deal with shit, AND at the same time realizing that the increased capacity comes with a very increased sensitivity to everything. Something something Brene Brown feeling joy and sadness. Something something integration, something something younger self. Basically I have the emotional sensitivity of 7 year old me (but now with the wisdom/experience/fully developed frontal lobe of 40+ year old me) and that's both healing and also a very vulnerable way to live.

I'm driving my son to school today and he mentions to me that the teachers HATE his classmate, Thomas (not his real name).

I asked, naively, stupidly, why, because Thomas seems like a cool kid. I've met him like, twice, for a total of two minutes each time. But he fits what, in theory, teachers want -- he was always dressed nice, clean, put together, hair neat (unlike mine). Just a nice looking kid.

And immediately corrected myself because a) they are all cool kids and b) that shouldn't matter and c) it has never mattered. I said I believed it, because I could tell within seconds in a classroom which kid the teachers hated, and that there was always one, that for whatever reason got all their anger and frustration and resentment and could do nothing right. Son agreed. "And they did something that really upset me," he said. "When we went to McDonald's, Thomas was having trouble deciding what he wanted. And the aide said, 'JUST GET SOMETHING' really mean." It was, in theory, our normal complaining and deconstructing of the hellscape that is school. I was sitting at a stop sign waiting to turn left. And for whatever reason that one hit sharper. I think I told him to stop talking for a minute because it made me really sad. I was surprised at how sad it made me.

Because my son is that kid. Since he was a toddler, the one who would just stare at a trick or treat bowl and freeze. Who takes FOREVER to make any kind of decision. It causes him actual, very real stress.

And at McDonald's, we are such frequent visitors that he knows his order very well. But if we weren't? If it was a new restaurant? If it was a more special outing? Or if it wasn't and he was the type of kid to switch it up? If he had never had practice ordering for himself? Even if he had? All these things. He has difficulty with it anyway.

I, as an adult, get confused by the touch screen menu (which I MUCH prefer because it allows for processing time). I messed up our lunch order on Sunday and had to go back and order another drink.

I thought of my own kid, little and always unsure, with actual disabilities that make decision making hard for him. I thought about how much I as an adult am unpacking the many little comments, still less harsh and probably more infrequent, that made me feel like my existing was somehow inherently wrong or inconvenient or my needs didn't matter.

Post on IG about Mother's Day being one of the most painful Sundays. It's from Christianity Today, why is that getting promoted at me? I couldn't tell you. How could churches make it better? And the one comment they show me is "offer flowers to all the women!" Girl. GIRL. NO. Here's the thing, here's the counter narrative, I'm never going to darken the door of a church again and have no desire to but I'm going to have an opinion on the internet, darn it: Mother's Day isn't Women's Day. I think there is one, I'm glad there is one, there SHOULD be one! However! This isn't it. Perhaps, just maybe, just a wild idea, CRAZY CONCEPT, as a former insider, as someone with 1/2 of an M. Div, maybe the problem isn't flowers but the way y'all have elevated motherhood to an extreme degree in that culture and the way you fucking devalue everything else! Maybe that's it. Because the other side of it is me, sitting here, having spend 12+ years doing the hardest thing I have EVER done in my life, having experiences and difficulties and challenges and failures and successes that are not remotely tied to womanhood as a general concept, that are specifically and only tied to raising human children. Underemployed as fuck, poor, making do with no support system as I always have and fucking thriving despite, literally having destroyed and rebuilt my nervous system and sense of self worth from scratch probably multiple times, existing on caffeine and snacky dinner... yeah, that shit feels pretty unique to motherhood. Just this week marking an email as new about a past summer job opportunity because "we'd love to have you back" and "if you want more hours, we have X position open" Cool cool cool, I can't leave my kids alone for that long and there are quite literally no childcare options. I'd LOVE to do it! I can't. Would I like a fucking carnation for my trouble? I mean. I guess not from a cult. But yeah. Yeah, I fucking would. Yeah, I'd like some damn acknowledgement. I mean ideally we would have a society with supports and all that but we don't and if all I can get is a flower, I'm taking the flower. And that's NOTHING against Nancy in the next pew who has had completely different struggles and a completely different life path. I want good things for hypothetical Nancy. I hope you get everything you ever dreamed of, I genuinely do. I want well for all of us. But when you graduate from a nursing program or something, I'm not showing up at your graduation ceremony demanding a degree. I didn't put in that work. You did that. Get recognized! We have both done really impressive, yet different, things! Yay BOTH OF US. Here's where I'm gonna get insensitive, I warned you. Oh but maybe Nancy always wanted to be a mother. Maybe Nancy has a lot of grief. And no, I'm not trying to be an asshole and dismiss hypothetical Nancy's grief. I don't do that. But also: who among us, amirite. This is everyone, it's just something different for everyone. So maybe it's not Nancy. Maybe it's some other hypothetical woman and she graduated law school. Maybe I also wanted to go to law school (I did. I do). I'm not going to. That's not for me. Those days are done. Oh but it's not the same thing -- ISN'T it? Or are we right back to elevating the role of motherhood to a fucking insane degree while also disparaging it? Who are you to tell me what my dream of law school is or isn't? Anyway.

What all of this is about is something I didn't write about 11 years ago because I was, somehow, too ashamed or whatever, and that is:

On Mother's Day 12 years ago I was not yet a mother, still going to church, the church did hand out carnations or whatever. I was a newly licensed foster parent and had, I think, done one respite weekend with two siblings. My friend at the church, who was the pastor's wife, insisted I stand when they had the mothers stand and brought me a flower and said something kind about how it counted for me. (Then I ended up getting kids and ultimately leaving the church because *gestures at everything* and she basically ghosted me, but, not the point of this story!)

On Mother's Day 12 years ago, I was a year into motherhood via foster care which destroyed me emotionally in ways nothing ever has, naively thinking my family would acknowledge me in some way because now it was my day too and that felt like a big milestone, and nobody said anything and my mom came over to my house to complain about the Mother's Day gifts (multiple) that my grandma and aunt, her mother and sister, got her. The same grandma and aunt who had always been the most over the top celebrators of everything I'd ever done. I'm talking mailing me cards when I lived in the same apartment complex, sending cards for "just because" or new apartment or new car or it's Thursday. I received absolutely nothing. No acknowledgement. And it's not about the stuff. Obviously. Probably don't need to say that. And I need to be so, so clear that this was not a foster or adoptive thing. That has never been my family. My family was very very intensely the other way, biology doesn't matter, love makes a family, all the problematic ways of viewing it as exactly the same but exactly the same always meant just as valid, etc. So my mom has a shirt that's not her style that she now feels obligated to wear, and I'm standing on my porch with nothing. Two babies who obviously can't do anything but it's just another endless, exhausting day, and I'd choose it again and again but that's what it was. I'm crying, my mom is making me feel like I'm being ridiculous and dramatic like this is the most confusing turn of events ever that I'm upset, and I think I end up spending the day alone, like always, and a couple days later my mom buys me a guilt necklace that isn't what I would've picked and also isn't really my style but wtfever.

One of the more uncomfortable parts of the therapy conversation last week was an attempt to navigate a conversation around the therapist's concern/fear of my daughter's ability to make friends. In a different environment, in a different conversation, if the vibes were otherwise, it's something I could have brought up on my own. Because that subject, broadly, would give me some material. I could discuss my feelings on it, if given the space. I do have concerns. Not Concerns™️ like most of society and all systems want me to have. But thoughts like I wish she’d stop getting in her own way. I wish people could see how truly amazing she is. I wish other people got to see the kind, empathetic, smart, funny person she really is when she’s completely herself.

But what happened was the therapist had her own fears/concerns, and they were very... in a way not meant to be disparaging but that will sound disparaging, typical. And just not the same as mine. A mismatch. And then they were put on me in a way that left me with no other outlet than to feel/become defensive, throwing out random stories and anecdotes to try and justify myself and my position after the fact.

(Typing that now I feel like it's similar to how I felt about discussing my relationship with her, and the flash of concern/judgment/assumptions I saw on her face when I called it both "serious" and then said we'd [only] been together "almost two months." Just a projection of stereotypical concerns that don't fit the reality of my situation, and therefore feel really off and really wrong and I feel defensive. Is this epistemic injustice? I've seen that a few places and I want to dig into it more and I don't know if that's what's happening here but it is happening SOMEWHERE.*

Anyway. In layperson's terms, it felt like that. It felt like you've already made up your mind and put this situation into a framework that doesn't fit, and now I can't even discuss the actual subject because I have to spend my time dismantling the whole fucking framework. Whereas if we'd just talked about it openly without a framework, I could've said what was going on in a way that didn't make me feel like a petulant child). *****

The conversation turned to some misinterpretation of me complaining about the lack of social support in schools being interpreted as "social support for neurodivergent/disabled kids only", which... ew, no, hard pass. It made me think of my daughter's friend's 10th birthday party, where a seemingly nondisabled girl from their gen ed class fluttered around the birthday girl and tried to mother her the whole time. "Jasmine (obviously not her real name), do you want to go swing? We could go on the swings! Do you like to swing, Jasmine? Jasmine!!! Let's go swing!" in full fourth grader special educator voice. I remember thinking it was so odd, that she had learned or picked it up somewhere and I didn't like it at all.

I thought about the kid who said "yeah, she's pretty cool" at my mild comment. And I thought about the two boys arguing over whether anyone was going to get arrested. And about the lunch table conversation with my daughter and her friend after the friend had somewhat unintentionally made extremely hurtful comments (I'd link this if I could find it).

But also I think about -- the one time when my kids were preschool age and going anywhere was a shitshow, and we ended up at the library coloring at a table with a much older, nonspeaking child. How they all three fell into a rhythm that felt so peaceful and it was one of the first times I'd ever seen them connect with another kid out in the wild. Swapping crayons and drawings effortlessly. And this was me of 10 years ago, with no real experience with similar disabilities (or so I thought), realizing something really good was happening at the library table.

Or the boy whose mom's number I still have in my phone because they met at the park in the nature play area and played beautifully together for an hour.

Or my daughter and our local friend's daughter playing mermaids in the creek, only minimally supervised for a couple hours while we talked, because they were both genuinely so caught up in their world and swimming and eventually just sitting on rocks talking that I had very little to worry about or keep an eye on. I tried to explain that while obviously I wanted my daughter to have friends, it wasn't something that concerned me in that way. And it does concern me, a lot, but in this environment, in this conversation, there was no safety or way to express that. Because those concerns would've been interpreted as something else. So I had to hold the line of no, I'm not concerned that she needs to change who she is to make friends. No, I'm not remotely concerned that she doesn't possess the qualities needed to be in relationship to other people and connect with other people -- I know she does, I see it all the time. She just is so often in protection mode. Yes, I'm absolutely annoyed that she is often off putting and abrasive, I have never been more annoyed by it, in fact, all things considered, but that isn't due to a lack of knowledge, it's due to a lack of felt safety. The nuance is more -- yes, it worries me sometimes, but more than that, look at where she's had success. How do we do more of this? How do we make this happen more? Where can we find these people?Sometimes it's just serendipity. But can we intentionally try to do this? Find this? Build this? Maybe? Maybe there are more people! After all, look what I've found so far. Look what I have that I never thought was possible. And I was explaining some of these situations, trying to explain how the fear about her having friends didn't sit right with me. Because I've seen the magic happen before. And because what was being described to me was giving me the impression of: teach the neurodivergent/disabled kids how to mask -- even with the disclaimer of "oh no, I don't want to teach masking." No shit, dude, no one ever wants to teach masking but it's a fucking survival response and bodily reaction. I'm so conflicted as these terms make it into the common vernacular because it becomes so much about the right language without deeper understanding. You're not saying "be neurotypical 😠 " but the assumption is still that she needs to adjust, that she's lacking or wrong or has some deficit in socialization or ability to connect with others. She doesn't. She connects differently, and she's way more on guard, but if anything she feels too much (same 🫡 ). She's more on guard because she's so much more easily hurt and so much more sensitive (same 🫡 ). We (general we) just fail to recognize it so often. What it felt like she was describing was again to teach the neurodivergent/disabled kids how to adjust and accommodate, without any recognition that the nondisabled kids also need to be taught those things and need to be putting in effort. Because none of this we're only teaching you the neurotypical social rules, but we're not teaching Aiden/Brayden/Hayden/Jayden/Zaiden/Kaden over here that talking about special interests is a form of connection. Or that disabled people deserve autonomy. Or any number of other things.

And we're teaching these skills outside of the actual moment, and providing no in the moment modeling or scaffolding. It's all the t-shirts and dumb bulletin boards saying be kind! be empathetic! but none of that translates to real life, and it's often the opposite -- adults yelling at kids, being sarcastic and disdainful with kids, jumping to the worst conclusions, assuming negative intent right and left. All judgment, all evaluation. No curiosity. No interacting for the shared joy of interacting or a moment of connection. Just that socializing is another skill to be taught, another way to fail.

I tried to say this. I tried to say, look, this (mermaids in the creek) is what we're aiming for. Not broad social adeptness or comfort everywhere, to a degree that we wouldn't ever expect from anybody else. Not the ability to make friends with anyone or anywhere, because none of us do that, and because some people will never be friends, and that's okay. I want my children to be kind, to be loving, to care about equality and justice and all of that -- I don't expect, and don't want, them to be friends with everybody. I want the opposite of that. I want them to find their people and have good friends and healthy relationships, selectively. To be polite and kind otherwise to everybody else by default. (And to be harsh when needed in this hellscape 😉). And they are kind and loving and caring! And they can express that when they feel safe.

I believe that with everything in me. I am very much at a can't nobody tell me nothing point in my life. I am Ron Swanson in the hardware store. But was I also questioning it hardcore in that therapy office, hell yes I was. Because it was hitting on every weird insecurity and anxiety I do have -- and not in a therapeutic way -- and especially right now in the process of integrating a whole other person into our lives.

*****

At the same time, that exact process is running on a parallel track in my brain. Because that experience has been the consistent, unprecedented experience of someone not being thrown by my kids at their most obnoxious, of still seeing the best in them, of not responding out of fear or "concern," of being able to retroactively analyze and tease apart "okay but what if it was this" and strategize what might be most successful, and do all of it with no judgment. Who consistently follows their lead. Who trusts that I have it handled. And all of this also had me thinking about the second zoo trip aftermath, a trip that was objectively not as terrible as the first (or so I am told), where I tried and tried to salvage it and then the final straw was a completely accidental spilled drink at Wendy's, which wasn't even a bad moment, just a very messy and annoying one. It was that and everything else, and after we got it mostly cleaned up was when I started crying. This is the parallel moment that keeps running as a contrast: the kids in the car (not really upset, just impatient), him holding me as I cried in a Wendy's parking lot. I think he asked in some nonthreatening way what was wrong, or what I was thinking. I did not know. I could not say. And that specific experience also felt like so many I've had before I couldn't even name them, of being very, very young and very upset and having no words to express what it was, and also people demanding (more threatening) to know what was wrong and "how can I help you if you don't tell me" (but I can't). And instead in a Wendy's parking lot I just got comfort and space for it to be okay even if I couldn't explain. We all went home, and a hour or so later we were texting and he pointed out a good thing or way it went better, and I said that was true and I was going to go with his assessment because for some reason the whole thing felt worse (than the first zoo outing) to me, and I didn't know why. And he said he could offer some thoughts, but feel free to shoot them down. And then gave me three whole trains of thought in words, with the tone of "is it possibly this?" So I was able to be like, yes, partially #1, entirely #2, and the weird thing about #3 is that you would think so and yet I don't worry about that nearly as much as I would expect to because this feels so stable and secure. Like I don't understand WHY I don't, but I don't. But #2 was very much naming it. And that whole process was so helpful. And just the constant, pervasive sense of support and validation. Eventually I was like... "wait, is this disappointment? Am I [just] disappointed?" and I really do think that was a big part of it. And that's how I figured out that someone (me) can be deeply emotionally aware and do it as a hobby and special interest and also probably experience some form of alexithymia.

But all of this came back as this contrasting example of -- this is what actually helps me. This is what it looks like. This is what it can be when no one is demanding I explain or justify. ***** Then I got Friday evening. And one of the more challenging relationships my kid has at school practically fell into my lap. Like the universe handed the situation over to me, like, okay. This is what you wanted. Let's see what you can do.

I both want to and don't have the energy to dive into all of these right now. I'm going to try to go high level overview (I have never succeeded at this in my life). Monday: -IEP meeting, I get called doctor -baby bunny, who was humanely euthanized -- I kind of expected it. I'm glad he didn't have to suffer in my backyard indefinitely -stopped for coffee (at one of "our" coffeeshops because that's a thing that happens now) on the way home because it was on the same road, bought food because all I do is buy food anymore vs. eating at home and it has to stop (it will not stop) -subbed in the afternoon, I don't really have any commentary on this one. It was a few hours in a classroom of primarily nonspeaking students where I've subbed before, the aides do everything. Nothing noteworthy, nothing overtly terrible in those couple hours, thankfully. Please note -- this is MULTIPLE THINGS. I have been having days of MULTIPLE THINGS, which is unheard of, those are college me levels of energy and I'd love to analyze and understand it. I've been having days of chosen multiple things (because obviously, baby bunny was kind of an emergency). This is what this man has done to me. I thought I was good. I thought I was healing, integrated, whatever. And I WAS. I didn't know I could still level up. The levels of peace and capacity and regulation are previously unheard of. Superhuman. When he's not even around. What is happening. I might've even gone to the store that evening, I can't remember. Tuesday: Tuesdays have for the past few weeks turned into parallel laptop time coffeeshop days. This was no exception. I absolutely love it. Like a weird little ritual. I wish I had things I need to do but that has not yet really aligned with Tuesdays. But it is so many of my favorite things combined. 10/10, no notes. I do that and then I go to tutor with a family that I just love spending time with. Predictable little routines. I NEVER thought I liked/needed them but these are just like this lovely container with which there's no strict obligation. That's the kind I need.

Also, I am essentially a Sim. My social meter is completely full and solid green for the first time since 2007.

Wednesday: Wednesday my daughter had therapy.

I've had feelings about that here before. This one was... all of that and more. I have unpacked it six million ways: two lengthy phone calls to friends, one of whom goes to the same therapy practice and who I saw that day. 20+ minutes of voice memos to bf (after a predictable "I don't know if I want to get into all of it again" -- immediately gets into all of it again). Woke up at 4am the next morning and started leaving voice memos to myself, broke down crying. Basically, daughter did her session, my turn with the therapist came, we ended up having a conversation that went from super awkward to actually connecting, but it revealed huge gaps and differences in approaches to autism/neurodivergence/disability that I knew were there, the dynamic went from uncomfortable/defensive/me in justifying mode the same as I am with schools, me finally saying look, I'm also autistic, the whole tone shifting, me going on a handful of soapboxes about how our family views disability but more than that how we are only in a good place because of my own internal shifts and growth away from a place of fear. It was one of those very intense, powerful conversations and I felt for the first time we actually connected, I could see I was deconstructing and reassembling her world view in real time. Probably too much, the metaphor I used in retelling it was that it felt like I had walked into a fifth grade math class and started explaining calculus. Me at full emotional, verbal intensity. Just a lot. Walked out to see friend and friend's daughter there, which was SO GREAT! but it was a solid 30 min of HIGH emotional intensity. Drove home rushing to get son on time, feeling physically sick and overloaded from all of it. Got son. Begged both of them to let me go home and just lay in the dark. Went home and they had the worst evening we've had in years, physical fights, meltdowns, screaming, just ugly. I did not lay down in the dark. I was begging for a minute alone, but I could not safely leave. That kept going for five hours.

It was, to put it mildly, a day. Thursday

Woke up at 4am, realizing that among all my conflicting emotions about Wednesday, I was mostly sad. Cried into my own voice memos. Got coffee and breakfast with bf, deconstructed/analyzed/exorcised what happened on Wednesday again. I decide what I've always known, which is that we just need to be done, because needing to unpack therapy every time with multiple people post therapy is kind of not it. And not in a "therapy is inherently triggering" way, more in a "this is unnecessarily difficult and triggering and you're fighting to make this thing fit when it is not, in fact, a fit, and you know and have known that, but this place has traditionally been safe and so you're holding on too tight because it's a big loss, but it's already gone." He made lunch 🥰 and stayed that evening to spend time with the kids, which they had been hoping for all week. Daughter spent the majority of the evening begging for a Minecraft skin and melting down over me saying no. I am genuinely fine-ish dealing with this for three hours, which is unheard of. BF and son left to pickup the pizza and she accidentally/probably not accidentally bought it in the few minutes when I was in the bathroom. Immediate tears, apologies, regret. I said I had already forgiven her. She said but I hate her. No, I don't. Aaaah. BF listens to my son talk about a video game for probably five hours straight. I hit the wall at that point. I love that child. He is precious. But I have reached the limit of listening to him talk about this video game. I just buried my head in his shoulder and wished for earplugs and tried to not end up snapping and saying something I didn't mean. I mostly succeeded. After the fact I was like, I really wanted to get earplugs, I should've gotten earplugs. And he's just, You could have. Wanting to do a task and starting a task are two different things (WORD). Also you only had four hours of sleep. Just... the validation. I never had it from anyone but myself. Friday

I live in a town of many small town coffeeshops, but all but a couple are culty/religious. We attempt a new one that is in a bank because that's a thing that happens so often for some reason. It seemed neutral. Outside are two vans from the religous radio station. On the door is a flyer advertising said radio station taking over said coffeeshop during exactly the time we are there. We leave. As we're driving somewhere else, the guidance counselor calls because daughter has made concerning statements about suicide. They're actually concerning to me. Not new, but a new level of concern. I text two friends who have been through similar (including same friend from Wednesday, who sends helpful local information). I call the therapy practice and talk to the main therapist who kind of insinuates that I should've called other therapist. Like... whatever, but I wanted an actual adoptee to talk to because that's kind of why we're there and this is a continuing frustration, also -- Wednesday happened. I hang up with her and cry in his arms, which, I'm no fool, everything can be terrible but oh my god. I never thought I could have this. We find a place for lunch and coffee and have the best espresso I've ever had in my life. I'm still thinking about it. I cry more. He says things like how I'm not alone anymore and I'm not a burden and I can take up space and he's not going anywhere and actually means it. He has actual insightful, helpful input, stuff I never thought of, stuff that makes perfect sense, and is actually more directly helpful than the therapist(s). We get more coffee and go to an estate sale and see so many cool rocks. We do not buy cool rocks. I don't want more stuff. But my inner child is delighted. He leaves, I pick up my children from school, both in very good moods. I take my daughter out for coffee (round three, for those counting) and try to talk to her about all of it. A lot of it becomes "SHUT UP, I don't want to talk about this." But there is no urgent threat. I'm trying. We go to the grocery to get a few things, she is delightful and playful and goofing around with me. She asks if we can go to First Friday downtown. I initially say no, but will be convinced because the rain stops and the sun comes out.

My son does not want to come. My daughter and I leave for First Friday. We drive around forever looking for a place to park. We FINALLY find one. Immediately upon arrival I see another girl and say to her, isn't that so-and-so from your class?

So-and-so from her class is a grade ahead. I've met her a couple times briefly. She's a girl who seems a lot like my daughter. She and my daughter have gotten into physical altercations, called each other a bitch, etc. I've also heard stories from my kids about classmate that just make me sad, that it took four staff to deescalate her (that's not deescalation. It doesn't take four adults to deescalate an actual adult. Be so for real. This is a little girl). My heart just breaks for her. I ask if daughter wants to say hi, she does.

Both girls are happy to see each other. Classmate tells me about my daughter's offenses against her the same way my daughter has about her, the same way my daughter would with my son. It's not longstanding animosity. It's not even personal. It's two disabled children who hit fight or flight mode really easily. I tell Classmate I'm so sorry that happened, and that it's not okay. I say something about school being stressful for so many kids.

Classmate is alone. Classmate is essentially my daughter's age, and in some ways to me seems so much more vulnerable. She asks if my daughter wants to go to look at some vendor booth. My daughter asks if they can go off alone. I say absolutely not but I'll go with them and be cool about it. Classmate isn't bothered, Classmate seems hyped to hang with us.

And I get what I've always wanted. The chance to actually scaffold and facilitate a social interaction with these kids who need that. And also intel and information that just vindicates the hell out of me, which is that omg, this is not a delinquent child. This is a very polite, people pleasing kid who needs social support. And my daughter is an amazing kid who WANTS to connect with friends but also can't do it in an environment where EVERYONE is trapped in fight/flight mode. We talk about school. Classmate confides in me about whoever her boyfriend is in the moment and I give her a few mild mom lectures about how she deserves to be with someone who treats her well because she is a great person and a great kid. I buy them a giant bag of kettle corn to share. We wander the event, go in a vintage toy store, my daughter accepts a "no I'm not buying anything today" with an amazing amount of ease. The girls giggle and clown around, we have a lovely time. Then we get caught in a hailstorm. Classmate says she's there alone. Daughter asks if she has a ride home and she says no. Daughter offers to give her a ride home and I said, if it's okay with your parents. Classmate says it's okay with her parents, her parents won't mind. I'm horrified for her but not surprised, also it's us and at least I know she's safe. Daughter tells Classmate about her comments about wanting to kill herself. Classmate is instantly in mom mode, so sweet and concerned. She's saying no no no your mom loves you and she would be so sad, which isn't the best reasoning but she's a child. She says she goes to a great therapist and my daughter can come with her to her therapist if she wants 🥺 I say things like, yeah, it's a really difficult way to feel, it's a scary way to feel and a scary thing to hear, but daughter has a lot of adults who love her and are supporting her and does have a therapist. I tell Classmate that she's a kind friend and that I appreciate her saying that and that I'm glad she has a great therapist. I do ask her what therapy practice she goes to because I'm not opposed, honestly, at this point.

Daughter begs for Classmate to be able to come over and visit that same night. I say no, but we could plan for next Friday. Both girls want to do that. And we have a plan. And I realize I'm completely okay with it. That this is the parent I always wanted to be but never had the capacity for. The girls beg for a sleepover and I said let's start with just a visit first, but I realize I'm actually fine with a sleepover too. Who am I.

We take Classmate home and I send the remainder of the giant bag of kettle corn with her because I don't know if anyone is caring for this child. Daughter goes home excited and exclaiming how "this will be our first friend we had over to visit!" which is what she tells Son when we get home. It is. We never could before.

Part of what was talked about on Wednesday and part of that whole big emotional discussion was fear about my daughter's ability to make friends and have friends. And I was saying, I don't want her to just indiscriminately have friends, and that yes, it IS hard for her but when she feels safe she connects beautifully with HER people, the people that get her, they're just hard to find and school is so stressful of an environment and so toxic that it's awful for all the kids. Kids just thrown into a holding tank of segregated special education, who also are struggling with needing social support and scaffolding and not getting it. That we have one good friend (the local friend above) and she and their daughter have connected beautifully and I finally see her getting small moments of actual friendship with her, just talking and swimming and playing mermaids in the creek.

I put the dog out yesterday morning and looked out into the yard to see him very curiously hopping around something that was clearly alive in the yard. I expected a toad. It was not a toad. It was a baby bunny. It had no clear injuries (and this was the dog's body language the whole time, but when I put him back near the entrance to his nest, he just flopped sideways and wouldn't really crawl around. I then had the aforementioned meeting, and when I checked on him he hadn't moved, so I took him to the wildlife center. The internet suggests anything from an ear infection to neurological problems and I don't know what the interaction was with my dog before I noticed, though everything I saw seemed curious and playful, admittedly with him pawing at the bunny a couple times. They gave him a patient ID number 🥺 and said I could email for updates so I'm waiting to hear. Either way, he was at least cared for and not left in the yard.

Guys. Guys. Guys. I'm going to be thinking about this one for a very very very long time.

I am an educational surrogate/surrogate parent, which means I attend IEP meetings for kids in foster care and sign stuff because apparently the state would rather have some random person do that rather than the foster parents. I don't make the rules. I do think it's weird. Usually what this looks like is the district (not one that I sub for, that's a conflict of interest) will email me and ask if I'm available, and I'll say yes or no depending on whether it's yes or no (logic!).

For a lot of students, I'm added to the conversation fairly late, so I mostly show up and sign something and just trust that everyone's doing what they should more or less. Like, we know they're often not, but I don't have enough information to do a ton, so I show up, do what I can, make sure IEPs continue, whatever.

In an ideal world, I would meet the kid/family beforehand so I actually would know their educational needs, but that never happens because I don't get contact information.

I've mostly had teens. I had one elementary school ETR where I was convinced the school would deny the IEP, was prepared to request an IEE, and then they were lovely and went above and beyond and granted it with much fewer concerns than existed for my own son when they denied his. I went in prepared to fight and then... nothing.

I am MUCH more comfortable with younger grades, because I've done that before. And also much more comfortable when I'm involved from the beginning, because that's less weird than just being the random person that shows up to sign things when everyone else has been working with the kid for 3+ years.

I had my first meeting where I was present from the beginning. It was the meeting to determine if the school would agree to evaluate for a suspected disability. I was neutral.

Until a couple days before the meeting, a gen ed teacher sent a long email feigning confusion over why we were having this meeting. Praising the good qualities of the student (which I 100% believe exist!). Saying all this nice stuff that did nothing but waste everyone's time, to be honest. The vibe was completely "this student is great!!!! Why are we evaluating?"

And to me that reads as "this student is great!!! (unlike my assumptions about disabled people)."

"This student is great!!!! -- and therefore can't be disabled."

"This student is great!!!! -- not like THOSE kids." Oh. Hell no.

Because guess what, Mrs. So and So. That was me. That is me. Leader? Check. Frustratingly smart? Check. Capable in class? Check. THREE DISTINCT TEACHERS called me a perfect student. I did not come to play this game. And you just activated my autistic as fuck sense of justice and need to cut through your toxic positivity, ableist bullshit.

So. Fast forward.

Scene: Zoom meeting. School psych. Foster parents. Me. I wear a damn cardigan. And business casual blouse. I NEVER bother to dress nice anymore. I bothered. I was ready to fight.

There are coverage issues so we do the meeting in shifts. School psych, FPs, me. Psych leaves to provide coverage for Gen Ed Teacher. Meeting is now Gen Ed Teacher, FPs, me.

Do you see the setup? There is no continuity here. No one is leading this meeting. No one is the consistent facilitator.

...so I decided that was my role.

...and I also had the benefit of being able to chat up the FPs in between school staff switches. Without anyone else there. I realize I may have been recorded, it's a one party consent state. I genuinely do not give a fuck.

I gave them my spiel about "I am here to represent the kid, and therefore, in a sense, you, because I don't know this kid. I am NOT a representative from the school district. I am here for [kid's] educational interests. This is what I'm thinking based on this email. This is what I hear you saying. I think we have reason to evaluate. I think the school has an obligation to evaluate. They may be trying to not do that, but I'm getting that vibe and I'm uncomfortable with it. If they evaluate and say, no, kid doesn't qualify, that's fine, but right now they have a duty to evaluate and not predetermine that." Or similar. I tell them that I have also been a foster parent, and both my kids have IEPs, and I've been around the process quite a bit.

I got more information out of them in that conversation than the school psych had in the beginning.

The teacher is exactly as I expect. The conversation devolves into what feels like a lot of microaggressions and personal questions that deal more with parenting. It is fucking insane. It is taking so long and for what? I have been in suspected disability meetings and it's like, do we want to evaluate? What do we want to evaluate? Okay, sign.

This woman is fully, unofficially throwing out observations like it's an ETR. She's making parenting suggestions. She asks if they go to the library.

I'm sorry, what the ACTUAL fuck?

She initially calls me "Mrs. [Slothhands]." I do not correct her. I usually do a bit about "oh no, I'm not married, let's not give credit to a hypothetical man" but you know what, this meeting isn't about me. I will be the one white woman who can recognize that this morning.

It goes on long enough that I cut her off at a few points and I don't even get apologetic about it. I am healing. I flip some of her own words back on her and say that actually, the disaparity in skills that she describes feels really indicative to me of a potential disability. I say it sounds like hallmarks of a learning disability or developmental disability. She does not like the term developmental disability. She balks at it. I correct her. I straight up CORRECT HER. A developmental disability IS NOT an intellectual disability. Being high performing, involved, a leader, kind, able to learn -- NONE OF THOSE THINGS ARE AT ODDS WITH A DEVELOPMENTAL DISABILITY. GIRL. I AM FUCKING DEVELOPMENTALLY DISABLED. IQ tests also love me. I KNOW MORE THAN YOU. I basically say, at one point, that I'm confused -- and it's full, passive aggressive, professional speak for "what the fuck are we even doing" -- why we're spending 20 minutes on parenting questions when this is a suspected disability meeting. That we are trying to determine if there is a need to evaluate, and it sounds very much like there is. She gets huffy. The mood noticeably changes. When she leaves, she says thank you to the FPs (and glazes them sufficiently for all they are doing) and thank you to me, Dr. [Slothhands]. Doctor. DOCTOR. SHE CALLED ME DOCTOR. I DO NOT HAVE A DOCTORATE. I HAVE NEVER HAD A DOCTORATE. ALL I HAVE IS INDIGNATION AND AUDACITY. I don't correct her because I wasn't born yesterday. Another teacher comes in, less awkward, but still just... can someone please tell me why no one can answer a straight question? Like if you say "I think [kid] needs to be challenged more" and I say "Just to make sure I understand, do you mean challenged more in regards to A or in regards to B?" why is that not a question y'all can answer? YOU LITERALLY SAID IT, NOT ME. You meant something by it! Presumably! School psych comes back, no shade to school psych who seems pleasant enough, but tries to "wait and see" about a couple of things and I drop a "I don't feel comfortable delaying an evaluation while we see if [kid] responds to intervention, that's not a reason to delay an evaluation" and I ask for additional evaluations she was ready to gloss over and she just... agrees? Just does what I say? I... what? Genuinely what? What is happening? IS IT MY NONEXISTENT DOCTORATE? Is it the cardigan? We get a decent plan together that probably inconveniences the shit out of the district because it's the end of April. I sign things. I now have the FPs email address. I have the authority as educational surrogate to ask for a full educational record and share it with them, according to the guide I read from the local Disability Rights organization. Me and the FPs in my mind:

The gen ed teacher sent an email already this afternoon that was kind of apologetic/awkward/CYA about "this is why I mentioned the library thing." The email is addressed to "Mrs. [School Psych]" (who, incidentally, has a doctorate) and "Dr. [Slothhands]" (who is really just someone's weird mom who dissociated through a master's degree and wore a cardigan).

***** See also: I would rather eat glass than ever relate to this song again 🥰 (Also shoutout to Guilty As Sin -- I will throw myself into traffic and The Prophecy -- just take me out back and shoot me, I swear to god)

Remember this kid? I do. I always will.

I subbed in that classroom because there was a job that worked with my schedule. I am so burnt out lately and also, let's be honest, highly distracted with a whole list of things I'd rather be doing.

I was the designated teacher-level substitute for the classroom, and spent some amount of time listening to the aides try and figure out how to divide up the day. At one point one said something about not knowing if (teacher) would want them to leave the sub with (child) -- can't remember if it was this kid or not.

I said if it helps, my own kids are intense and there's nothing that will shock or surprise me. And that I didn't know exactly how to say it, but honestly, if there was a kid they didn't want to deal with, I was happy to take the most challenging one.

I said the same to another aide later on, my actual words being something like, "Honestly, I'm here for the morning and then I'm going to go home. I'm going to be home tomorrow. If there's anything you don't want to do, or any shit you don't want to deal with, I'm happy to do it and give you a break. I'm not here all the time and I don't mind." (There were no children present 😉 ).

Anyway.

There was some mild debate over whether it would be okay to give me responsibility for (Kid's Name) for an hour and I was like, really, it's fine. As it turned out, said child was the same kid from the pizza shop/Grinch adventures.

I was wrong about his age, because he's fairly tall. He was even younger than I thought.

He did a game on his computer that involved the five senses. He acted out along with the characters. He danced to the music. He picked up the TV remote that was on the table and I started to say no, leave that alone, because I live in perpetual fear of getting in trouble and/or breaking something. He did not. I realized there was no good outcome to physically taking it from him.

"This is the microphone!" he said, and got up and performed the song that played on his computer game every time he accomplished something. Okay. I clapped along. I cheered his performance. The remote remained unbroken. He put it back.

He tried to beg for more fruit snacks. I said no. He said he didn't have any. I said, teasingly, "I think you did, I think I watched you, I think you counted them."

"No," he said. "That wasn't me."

I said, "that's funny, because he looked just like you. He was wearing a shirt just like yours. He was wearing pants the same color."

"That's not me," he said. "That's my clone. He looks just like me. He's my clone. Would he be my clone? If he looks just like me?"

I said yes, probably.

"If you don't give me fruit snacks," he said, "I'm going to be bad. I'm going to be bad at school."

"You aren't," I said, "Because I don't think you can be. I think you're good, and I think you're a cool kid."

"I didn't have any. That was my clone."

I said then he needed to talk to his clone, because it sounds like they had some issues between them, but the fruit snacks weren't mine to give.

At that point it was either resolved or he got distracted, who knows.

During this conversation he had been up walking around, and I had previously moved across the table to sit beside him, so he was now sitting in the spinning teacher chair, and I, perpetually afraid of getting in trouble, was just hoping no other adult walked in and viewed it as a power imbalance. I said we needed to do some of his math app but first I could spin him in the chair, because my god, this child needed to MOVE.

The spinning was serving the dual purpose of sensory input, but also a little bit of okay, kid, let's speedrun trust or attachment or whatever. I expressed concern for his safety and told him to hold on. I said something like I want to make sure you are safe. I told him how many times I would spin him. I said if you want to stop, say stop and I'll stop spinning. Cool? Cool. It's about the spinning, but it's not just about the spinning, because for all intents and purposes, you've never met me before, but maybe we can build some trust with this office chair and then be able to do math.

I spun him. He reluctantly went back to his laptop. I somehow managed to convince him to click on the math app, so we could just see what the topic was. I said something like we can do some of this, and then we can spin again. It was addition.

And then I had an idea, because sometimes I'm smart. And sometimes I end up in a situation where I actually have some tools I can use and the space and freedom to use them.

I suggested we do the same number of spins as whatever the answer was. First problem: 5+0. Five spins.

I encouraged him to do the next one and that it would be a lot more. He did. 10 spins.

We kept working this way, do a math problem, then chair spins, which I would count out the same as the addition problems (e.g., 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and add three more, 6, 7, 8). I said it felt like I was running an astronaut training camp. I genuinely could see him getting more focused as we kept going. We had a little routine. I tried alternating clockwise/counterclockwise under the guise of making him less dizzy but really more to just be like, hey, you have preferences and they matter. You have autonomy. Be autonomous, child.

We finished that math section and it was time for lunch. On the table was a clipboard with a checklist chronicling all of his potential wrongs. Literally. There was no option for good things or joy. It was the school to prison pipeline in chart format. Most of the notes said things like "banged on wall" or "rolled around on the floor." I found the section for our hour and wrote that we completed a section in the math app, and had done addition with spinning in the chair, and that I tried to add a lot of movement for him because he needed to move.