Yesterday, I had the opportunity to take Ashlyn and a friend to the waterpark down the street from us. It's been a really fun experience to have that so close because (1) Eve works there and can bike to work and (2) we have a membership that allows us to go whenever we want for one low price! That actually is true, even though it also sounds like an advertisement. The park is pretty expensive for a day pass ($50/person). We would absolutely never go if we had to pay. It's just not worth it to pay that much money and then have to stay there all day in order to feel like we got our money's worth. Our lives just don't allow for day-long plans. We are such a play-it-by-ear family, much to my chagrin.
This is life parenting a child with special needs. There is always something. Some emotions to have. Some illness to work around. Some irritability to manage. Some ability limitations. Some kind of "I don't think he can handle that" or "I'm just too tired" to interrupt the plans that we might otherwise make.
And it's hard.
But I'm a parent. I signed up. No, I didn't understand the depths of harm that early trauma and lack of bonding can bring. I went in eye mostly squinted shut. I tried to learn about it. I tried to open my eyes. Yet despite the hours of classes, the countless books, the adoption conferences, the conversations with other moms, the Google searches, I just didn't understand what our child's past would mean for the future of our family. But that is another post.
This is one about my other child. The one who can do homework on her own, who can go to after school activities without running away or having a meltdown, who can maintain relationships.
She can do all these things on her own, and I'm so proud of her. But because she is more able, she gets the short end. She doesn't get the time in the car on the way to the after school activities because there's a tae kwon do place down the street from her school, and she can get herself there. Sure, she'd rather play soccer, but I have to drive her brother to therapy. So, her desires give way to her brother's needs.
Over and over and over.
Her time at a friend's house gets cut short because my schedule is packed with appointments and I know I'll be too tired to pick her up later. Her activity choices are limited because it has to be close enough that she can get there, either on her own or on the way to one of those appointments. Time we find to support her during her math homework is interrupted by her brother's urgent statements about rocks and insistence that someone look up how much a shark tooth necklace costs and crying when he is told "later."
But yesterday was different. Because of pool water or dirty hands or both in combination, Brian had an ear infections this week and was instructed to stay out of pools for the duration. Did it change our plans? Of course, because our plans always change. One adult had to stay home with Brian.
But on the other hand, Ashlyn got to take a friend and spend significantly more time at the park than she would have. And while it's a bummer that we couldn't all go as a family and that Brian and Billy had to miss it, I think for the day, Ashlyn felt like a normal kid in a normal situation that just allowed her to enjoy her uninterrupted time with her friend.
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