Not My Finest Hour

It is 12:45 am and the only reason that I am up is because I am controlled by two Basset hounds who must go outside.     I stagger around trying to get my eyes in focus.  As I open the door to let them out, I am fixated on Bailey’s bedroom door.    It takes me a few seconds to comprehend that at this very late hour he is still awake.  My frustration and annoyance are on the strong side.

After the girls come in and they are given their treat – yes, they have trained me well – I stomp downstairs to confront my twenty-two year old son.   “I know its late.”  He responds as he sees the steam coming out of my ears.   I proceed to take away his electronics and say something that I need to own an amends for.   “Why do you keep doing this?  You know that in order to live on your own, you have got to show some responsibility.  Are you stupid?”   UGH……..and there you have it.  The award for the most insensitive mother goes to ALLISON JONES.

I didn’t wait for him to answer, I simply walked back up the stairs and berated myself for a litany of parent no-no’s.    Allowing my frustration to get the best of me usually means my vocabulary usage drops.   Words like “stupid” don’t normally come out of my mouth in a typical conversation.    But, even so, the word “stupid” is not something that needs to be said to my son with Down syndrome.  In fact, if anyone else said that to him, I would have lashed them with my verbal whip.   It wasn’t anyone else, it was me.

Part of raising kids involves a level of annoyance, but when you have a special needs child, it doubles.   Especially when that is immersed with a level of stubbornness that matches his father.    My head hurts from banging it against a wall over and over again.  It is a wonder that I am even conscious.

So, this morning when he wakes up, I will apologize.  Being accountable to my kids is the most important lesson that I can provide, but most importantly it cleans up my side of the street.

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