What, you thought I was done after last week’s round of confessions? Oh, no. There’s plenty more where that came from:
• I hate it when others make like I’m a saint because I’m bringing up a kid with special needs. I didn’t have a choice, people! (Though yes, I am doing my best.)
• When Max pulls his sister’s hair and otherwise fights back when she starts up with him, I am secretly relieved that he is able to do that.
• Sometimes, I think I know better than the therapists and doctors.
• I’ve begged my husband, Dave, to take out the kids and feed them at McDonald’s just because I desperately needed to have a quiet house all to myself.
• I’ve been known to leave the house with plenty of snacks, boxes of chocolate milk…but no emergency seizure medication for Max.
• Max often doesn’t wear his leg braces on weekends. Dave says it’s because we’re giving him “a break.” I say it’s mostly because we’re giving ourselves a break.
• I have spoken with “normal” people who seem far more clueless than my mentally-disabled child. Typically, they are the customer-service people on the other end of the phone line.
• When Max loses it in public and wails and throws himself on the floor, I feel like doing the same.
• I think both of my kids are exceptionally adorable (and I’ll bet you have that confession, too).
Ellen blogs daily at To The Max.