One day I found myself subscribed to a virtual newsletter from the local children’s hospital’s autism center. Yes, my daughter Lina is autistic. No, I did not sign up for a newsletter. I never sign up for newsletters. I have too many emails already. I don’t read any of them, unless they come from an actual person with a first and last name. And even then, it’s 50/50 I’ll ignore it. The state of my inbox drives my husband to distraction. 40,000 unread emails (or something like that, honestly I have no idea) is apparently “too many” and “barbaric.” But it takes less effort on my part to ignore them than to delete them.
All of this to say: I didn’t sign up for the newsletter. I assume they got my email off an evaluation waitlist. But Covid had recently shut down our city and Lina’s therapy center, so in a shocking turn of events, I did open it. I was a little desperate for advice and information about how to parent during a pandemic. I didn’t know what was considered “right,” yet I knew I was doing it all wrong, screwing up my kids even worse than usual. And inside that newsletter, I discovered a hand-drawn flow chart that has become one of my dearest, most treasured guideposts in life.
A series of questions, giving plaintive voice to the many issues parents suddenly found themselves facing: Is it okay to ignore all the distance learning materials? We’re on work calls all day, will our kid be okay? Are we wasting this family “together time” if we don’t like gardening or crafts or baking or spontaneous family musicals? And for each question, a soothing, nonjudgmental counter-inquiry: Is your child on fire? No? Awesome, you’re doing great! It will be okay! And for those parents having a really rough day, with at least one child literally erupting in flames (maybe more), well, the no-nonsense advice to simply put them out, followed by a hearty, “You’re doing great!” is what we all need to hear sometimes.
(Please note, I do not know the author of this flowchart, and I would love to find out. The newsletter offered no leads. Hit me up if you know where credit is due.)
Most days my children are not on fire. I feel I should emphasize this fact.
Yet I often have a sneaking suspicion that my parenting is suboptimal. I can’t explain it. It might be all the times I’ve sent Lina to school with yogurt yet without a spoon to eat it. It might be the time I got a call from my husband while I was on a business trip across the country, in which he informed me that Lina was in urgent care due to a suspected ear infection, followed by a call that they resolved the issue and really her shoes were just too small—and no, I did not have a larger pair of shoes waiting in her closet. Maybe it was the time Jack, at six months old, accidentally tumbled head first into the bath tub and got a big old goose egg even though I was sitting six inches away, or the time Lina fell head first off the couch and incurred a bump more akin to ostrich than goose.
The only reason Lina figures more prominently in these stories is because she’s older, and I’ve had less opportunities to screw things up with Jack (so far). But his time will come. He too will be sitting there one day staring forlornly at his strawberry Yoplait, wondering if he’s allowed to eat it with his hands.
These are not my proudest moments. But you know what? My parenting may be imperfect, and goodness knows this whole year is just a dumpster fire, but so far, my children have not actually climbed into the flames.
So, hey, I guess I’m doing great! And I’m guessing so are you.
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