This is the place where I write about Mai family's struggles, challenges, and adventures. Mai family was created in 1992 in Minneapolis, MN, after meeting each other in 1988, and then officially in 1996 when we received our marriage certificate, We have three children and live in central Florida. Welcome to our world, we're glad you're in it!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Another Day at Hobby Lobby
I think what I am feeling is "normal" for parents who are told their child has autism. I have some Mommy guilt. I feel responsible. I feel sad for him yet happy he is my child. My heart continues to break. I'm not entirely ready to say the words out loud to someone in person.
I almost had my first public breakdown yesterday. I took the kids to Hobby Lobby. Laney refused to sit in her car seat so I carried her. Alex sat in the tiny cart. Gabriel walked alongside the cart for a while, until he saw the tub of scissors.
He kept running to the scissors and even broke the tub open to pull the big blue pair out. He was insistent that we purchase the blue scissors and did not understand that they needed to be purchased with the entire tub. He ran back and forth from the scissors to me, even when I wasn't next to him. Gabriel lacks that sense of safety still.
He had a meltdown from the back of the store all the way to the front checkout, screaming for the big blue scissors all the way. This is understandable from a two year old but not so much from a 5 year old. I couldn't pick him up because I had Laney in my arms and he couldn't go in the cart because it was too small.
Older women were giving me looks. It felt like they were questioning my parenting. This is when I almost let the tears fall down my face. I wanted to yell.. it isn't me! It isn't him! It's this damn black cloud lingering over him called AUTISM! Be kind and accept him and quit giving me dirty looks!!!
Instead I calmly paid, got him out of the store, and buckled everyone into their car seats. I drove through Starbucks for a mocha treat after that fiasco. Gabriel was still screaming for the scissors.
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