What a Special Needs Mom wants for Mother’s Day

This week, I’ve read lots of blog posts and memes about Mother’s Day. Some of them are pretty dead on accurate, and others hurt my heart. Lots of them are about what mother’s really want for Mother’s Day—things like for children to close the doors, pick up socks, and so on.

So as I was sitting here pondering how superficial many of these things were, I started to think about what I would want for Mother’s Day.

(Now, everyone will know my secrets)

  1. Health care perks! While I’m lucky enough to have a fairly good rapport with our doctors and specialists, I’d really like to have a punch card. You know, like the stores do. After the 5th trip in a month, your visit is free!
  2. A normal sleep-wake cycle. I’ve become this person who survives on 4 hours of sleep per night, but who can’t watch a movie without passing out within the first 3 minutes. I’m not a very fun date.
  3. Speaking of dates—I would love to have dates with my husband more than once every 4 years (which is our current record). I hear they are fun. Apparently, some people, date like once a week. To me, this sounds excessive.
  4. Crispy, Hot French fries. I know this sounds odd, but this is how it works in my world. Ready? I’m up all night with the kid who can’t breathe well. I call the doctor first thing when they open to be told that there are no appointments for the day. However, I can show up and wait to be seen as a walk-in (I’m supposed to be humbled by their grace?) Pack children in car. Wait for 3 hours to be seen, while the sick child coughs enough to throw up 47 times. When the doctor arrives, she is in a panic and sends us to the hospital for a chest x-ray. Wait another 2 hours to be seen. After completion, I, the guilt-ridden mother realize that I have neglected to feed the oldest child, who is looking like she may pass out from low blood sugar at any given moment. I, with the speed and agility of an Olympian, throw one sick child in a car seat, buckle him in, and throw the wheelchair in the trunk (much like a javelin). I speed to the nearest fast food joint, and purchase food. While the oldest child eats as if she has never seen food, I drive home. As I pull in the driveway, the sick child coughs and pukes all over my car. Forgetting that I’m starving, and that I have crispy, hot French fries waiting, I clean the mess, the child, and myself. Only then do I realize I may never eat crispy, hot French fries again.
  5. Stock in Lysol. See above.
  6. DME support. Wouldn’t it be awesome to call and ask for a new wheelchair (since the one being currently used is being outgrown) and not be told that it may take up to 6 months for them to get one to you? That’s like telling a fish to swim in sand because you need to make sure you can find water. Or something like that.
  7. The Whole World to Get Glasses. I think that may be the only way to cure the major problem I have with going out in public. It’s clearly very difficult for people to see me pushing Jack around in a bright blue wheelchair. Just the other day, I was trying to enter a door, and some middle aged, over-cologned, business jerk walked right in front of me, opened the door, and walked in–without holding it for us. So, he just let the door slam right on me and Jack. Please, World, look…think…do good things! For crying out loud, your Mother taught you better than that!
  8. Compassion. I’ve been trying to do this myself more, so I’m imploring you to do the same. When you see a mom who is having a hard time with her child (or pushing a wheelchair), smile at her. Say hello. That moment of “Oh, honey, I SO get it” means more than anything.




On Mother’s Day, know that my hat is off to YOU. I know the work is hard and the hours are long—but someone very special loves you, and that is worth it all.


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