Re: Welcome to my home.... I think.

[Guest guest]

Love this...thanks for sharing.

From: b_blackburn19

Sent: Thursday, January 13, 2011 11:15 AM

IPADDUnite

Subject: Welcome to my home.... I think.

I ran across this while looking for some stuff for staff training. I bet most of

the parents in this group have felt this exact same way so I thought I would

share.

Welcome To My Home.I Think

By Sharon Burleson

Hi. Welcome to my home, I think. I mean, maybe you're welcome, I'm not sure yet.

When I get to know you, I'll know for sure. My child is disabled, and I need

help to do all the things he needs done. So I need you. He needs you too.

Because he gets worn out and bored with me and sometimes dislikes me about as

much as I dislike him (please don't start making judgements about me-we just go

started. It's just that I'm honest, and as much as he is the sole reason for my

existence, there are times when both of us wear thin.

The agency sent you here. I called for help, but I don't get a choice of who

comes into my home and my life. You come at your convenience, usually between

9:00 and 3:00 Monday and Friday. I'm on my own evenings and weekends, when my

other children tug at me and want and feel slighted and offended and I feel

stretched to my limit. You call and tell me you are coming Tuesday morning. So,

I put the stack of unanswered mail and the unpaid bills in the cabinet with the

cereal bowls. Race dirty and clean clothes up and down the stairs, shove toys

and unmated shoes in closets and under beds, and run the gauntlet with Fantastic

to get fingerprints off everything, And then you call to tell me you have to

cancel because of a meeting. Oh sure, I understand, yes, that's fine. Friday

afternoon? Well, I was going to try to go to the library or maybe take a

nap.what? Oh. That's the only time you have? Well, sure, I know it's important

that you come. And we really need the help. Fine. Friday at 1:30. We'll be here.

I can't always tell when you're real. But my son can. If he responds and

welcomes you, then I set aside my needs and cares and let you have everything I

have, including my son. I have to trust you because he trusts you and looks

forward to your step on the porch. What? Oh, good grief. I forgot your paperwork

again!!! Wait, I know it's here somewhere. I was working on it last week just

after the hot water heater burst and right before my husband came home laid off.

Wait.I think I wrote on the back when the bank called about the deposit to cover

the overdraft. Yeah, I found them! Right behind the peanut butter.wait, I'll

just wipe them off a bit.

You know, I used to be normal. I used to have control of my life, my time, my

home. Having a disabled child turned my life upside down. My priorities changed.

What I would settle for changed. What I would ask for changed. Who I would

accept changed. All that changed because my child needs things and people and

ideas and funding. So my life consists of meetings, regulations, documentation

and paperwork, social workers and agency people, policies and procedures manuals

and administrative decisions, delays and rumors of delays in checks, people not

showing up when needed, people quitting and people showing up when they are not

needed.

Please don't judge me. And I'll try not to judge you. You see, in the long run,

If I don't measure up. I'm still his mother. So we're all stuck with each other,

and I'm willing to make the best of it. Help me to grow, help me to become

better. Accept me as a person, not some perfect saint. I really do know my child

better than anyone else, so help me express that and put it to good use. Walk

with me a ways, not to judge me, but to understand my role within the heart of

my family. Give me the tools and words and people that, like pieces in a jigsaw

puzzle, interlock to allow for my strengths and compensate for my shortcomings.

Please don't push me past my endurance because if you do, you'll see me at my

worst: Short-tempered, impatient, inflexible and emotional. I'm not good to my

son then, either. Each of us has that fine line. I try to recognize when I am

approaching that line, and usually that is when I am cranky and complaining to

you. Please realize that this is one facet of me, just as real and acceptable as

the superwoman who overcomes unbelievable obstacles. There are sunny days and

then there are thunderstorms, all part of a temperate climate. Well, anyway, hi.

Welcome to my home..I think.

[Guest guest]

thanks for sharing..........I love it!

don't judge me!

________________________________

From: b_blackburn19 <b_blackburn19@...>

IPADDUnite

Sent: Thu, January 13, 2011 11:15:40 AM

Subject: Welcome to my home.... I think.

 

I ran across this while looking for some stuff for staff training. I bet most of

the parents in this group have felt this exact same way so I thought I would

share.

Welcome To My Home…I Think

By Sharon Burleson

Hi. Welcome to my home, I think. I mean, maybe you're welcome, I'm not sure yet.

When I get to know you, I'll know for sure. My child is disabled, and I need

help to do all the things he needs done. So I need you. He needs you too.

Because he gets worn out and bored with me and sometimes dislikes me about as

much as I dislike him (please don't start making judgements about me-we just go

started. It's just that I'm honest, and as much as he is the sole reason for my

existence, there are times when both of us wear thin.

The agency sent you here. I called for help, but I don't get a choice of who

comes into my home and my life. You come at your convenience, usually between

9:00 and 3:00 Monday and Friday. I'm on my own evenings and weekends, when my

other children tug at me and want and feel slighted and offended and I feel

stretched to my limit. You call and tell me you are coming Tuesday morning. So,

I put the stack of unanswered mail and the unpaid bills in the cabinet with the

cereal bowls. Race dirty and clean clothes up and down the stairs, shove toys

and unmated shoes in closets and under beds, and run the gauntlet with Fantastic

to get fingerprints off everything, And then you call to tell me you have to

cancel because of a meeting. Oh sure, I understand, yes, that's fine. Friday

afternoon? Well, I was going to try to go to the library or maybe take a

nap…what? Oh. That's the only time you have? Well, sure, I know it's important

that you come. And we really need the help. Fine. Friday at 1:30. We'll be here.

I can't always tell when you're real. But my son can. If he responds and

welcomes you, then I set aside my needs and cares and let you have everything I

have, including my son. I have to trust you because he trusts you and looks

forward to your step on the porch. What? Oh, good grief. I forgot your paperwork

again!!! Wait, I know it's here somewhere. I was working on it last week just

after the hot water heater burst and right before my husband came home laid off.

Wait…I think I wrote on the back when the bank called about the deposit to

cover

the overdraft. Yeah, I found them! Right behind the peanut butter…wait, I'll

just wipe them off a bit.

You know, I used to be normal. I used to have control of my life, my time, my

home. Having a disabled child turned my life upside down. My priorities changed.

What I would settle for changed. What I would ask for changed. Who I would

accept changed. All that changed because my child needs things and people and

ideas and funding. So my life consists of meetings, regulations, documentation

and paperwork, social workers and agency people, policies and procedures manuals

and administrative decisions, delays and rumors of delays in checks, people not

showing up when needed, people quitting and people showing up when they are not

needed.

Please don't judge me. And I'll try not to judge you. You see, in the long run,

If I don't measure up. I'm still his mother. So we're all stuck with each other,

and I'm willing to make the best of it. Help me to grow, help me to become

better. Accept me as a person, not some perfect saint. I really do know my child

better than anyone else, so help me express that and put it to good use. Walk

with me a ways, not to judge me, but to understand my role within the heart of

my family. Give me the tools and words and people that, like pieces in a jigsaw

puzzle, interlock to allow for my strengths and compensate for my shortcomings.

Please don't push me past my endurance because if you do, you'll see me at my

worst: Short-tempered, impatient, inflexible and emotional. I'm not good to my

son then, either. Each of us has that fine line. I try to recognize when I am

approaching that line, and usually that is when I am cranky and complaining to

you. Please realize that this is one facet of me, just as real and acceptable as

the superwoman who overcomes unbelievable obstacles. There are sunny days and

then there are thunderstorms, all part of a temperate climate. Well, anyway, hi.

Welcome to my home….I think.

[Guest guest]

I can only say AMEN! I'll extend the issue to include family and

friends who often have no idea what stress they add when they do not

understand that sometimes it just isn't a good time to do whatever they

want, or that we parents are sometimes just out of energy to do anything

beyond what our immediate household requires! Thankfully I have

survived and life is easier, but I have whole periods of my life that I

don't remember because it was all so overwhelming. I see home movies

and pictures and it is like viewing someone else's life.

Anyone else have that experience? Perhaps I am just going senile. Gloria