Pity Party...

Look.

I read blogs.  Not as much as I used to because I am far busier than I was after Matthew died.

But I used to read a lot.  Still read some a lot.

Am embarrassed to say that some I judged pretty harshly because they were either too peppy (and I found it impossible to be as optimistic and happy and joyous as they were in spite of their life's circumstances) or they were too depressing (and Lord knows I knew a thing or two about depressing).

I didn't judge them publicly. (Seriously.  If you do NOT like something you read, then for crying out loud, DON'T READ.  I have no idea why people feel like it's ok to trash talk someone online just because it's online.)

Anyway, I don't judge publicly.  I try not to judge.  It's hard, though, because when I try to put myself in the shoes of others, I obviously think about how *I'd* react and behave, and frankly, some of the blogs I've come across were ones where I just couldn't believe them, for whatever reason.

I'm sure some say that about mine.

"Good grief, she sounds like she never has a second of hard parenting. Always Pollyanna about Luke.  Doesn't she EVER just get frustrated with him and want to scream?"

(Yes.  Three days before Christmas I was making a recipe that had yummy orange icing.  Sugar, people.  Orange and sugar.  I tried and tried and tried and TRIED to get Luke to even have a taste.  Just a teeny one, thinking he'd want more if he'd just *TASTE* it.  He refused, it got ugly and icing went everywhere.  I was frustrated, believe me, and even found myself saying, in a tone I don't love, "For crying out LOUD, Luke.  It's ICING.")

Or...

"Dear Lord, I just can't read another word of this.  It makes my heart hurt too much.  She seems so broken.  I thought she was doing better and she seems even WORSE!"

I feel ya.  There are lots of days I think about how depressing it is.  How depressed I am.

And then 30 seconds later, how grateful I am and how much joy I have in my life.

Throw in a daddy leaving for a year.  It's probably obvious that he's leaving soon.

Very, very, very soon.

For a year.

A year seems like such a long time.

But three years ago was yesterday.

A year ago, I was about to be pregnant again.

Yesterday, I lost him.

Sigh.  I'm obviously no stranger to being a military spouse (16 years, OY!) or deployments, but never a YEAR with a child.  It's hard.  I can do it.  I can handle it.  I've no doubt.  Luke and daddy being separated that long breaks my heart though.

I feel like he's already lost a lifetime with two of his sons.

He says he had their whole lifetimes.

Potato/potahto.  Easy to tell who is the glass-full kind of person, huh?

Luke is going to a speech evaluation.  He has his two year check up tomorrow.  I've filled out the Ages and Stages and the MCHAT.  No issues...except with communication.

For a kid with the vocabulary he has (yesterday, he dug through a box of hotwheel cars/planes, pulled out what I'd call a blimp and called it a "Zepplin") and the strong abilities in other areas, his speech development is behind.

Significantly.  He is not phrasing much, doesn't really use pronouns, and though he repeats EVERYTHING, and can remember too, he does not do much construction.

Probably related to sensory integration issues, which are presenting their own sets of challenges, and well...my heart aches for him.

People off the street would have NO clue.  None.  Others tell me he's FINE.  (He is, regardless.) Others tell me that in the big scheme of 'issues', his are so minimal. (I know, I know...trust me, I know.)

But I'm not dumb.  I'm not trying to force issues on my kid.  I am NOT a hover mother.

I have degrees in early childhood development, as well as certifications as a special needs teacher with a focus on autistic spectrum disorders.  I'm not completely ignorant to flags at 2 that turn into the issues I saw in my students at 7.

No, I don't think he's close to being on the spectrum, and even if he was, no big deal.

In fact, it's more frustrating that it's *just* sensory issues because people like to dismiss those as not a big deal.

When your kid eats a meal every two or three days, trust me, it can be a big deal.  Thank God he ate this morning.  He was hungry, obviously, because he's not eaten much of anything since Saturday.  

Yes, Saturday.

Anyway...my guess is the eval will say he's fine; he's a boy; come back in 3 months.  Great. I'd be glad to do that.

If not, we'll deal with whatever.

Just having one of those days where I'm feeling down.  Not woe is me, just woe is.


So, off to the park we go.  No woe is possible at the park, is it?

I didn't think so.