Max colored glasses


I need more peeps who have kids with disabilities.  I need to add a few to the mix. There is nothing wrong with the friends I have – I enjoy them, I love them, and I know I can count on them, spend time with them, have fun with them and do all the things friends can do.

The problem is mine and that along with my need for reading glasses, I see everything and everyone through Max colored glasses.  I thought this might pass with time.  In fact, I even imagined that it did- school has been a bit of a neutralizer.  But,  I still don’t do well listening to conversations about other people’s Max- age children without thinking that I have nothing to contribute.  My experiences with Sophie don’t seem to count. I feel like a mom-imposter.  I almost feel myself start to sweat as I chime in with a thought or two, maybe even share a story, but it always feels phony to me.  My stories about Max’s experience at school or on the school trip, or at the playground are just not the same.   I pretend they are, I may even leave out the gory details, but I feel like I am not fooling anyone –  especially myself.  I often imagine that people nod and smile politely, but secretly think I am delusional.

I don’t do well making plans for the future or working out schedules of activities.  These things are not the same for us.  We don’t do Little League or soccer.  We don’t do sleepovers or sports camp.  We don’t often do a walk down-town.   In fact, I don’t even really want to do those things all that much and my comments here not filled with sadness or regret…. I just feel so much more comfortable talking about our upcoming IEP meeting.

Is that a bad thing?  Some people might feel more comfortable talking about work, or religion or politics.  I prefer to talk about gross motor development and speech therapy.  I feel good when I am talking about these things I know so much about.  I feel good about myself.  I feel like an expert – I get that feeling that all is right in the world and I am wearing the right outfit.  I don’t have to leave out the gory details.

When I hang with the special-ed moms, I feel like the most popular girl in school.

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