Not So Special

I get asked often by a few of the 'special needs' moms I know how I'm doing. They want to know how I'm really doing.

And I know what they're asking. They're asking how I'm doing as a special needs mom. Not as a regular old mom, not as a woman, but as a special needs mom.

And to be honest, I never quite no how to answer.

Because, really, as far as the special needs thing goes? I'm fine. I'm good. We've got this thing down.

Except then I remember that Olivia isn't really all that special needs. She isn't.

She walks like any other four year old. She talks like most four year olds. She eats like a thirty-six year old. She tattles on her sister, she pours water on the floor during bathtime, she's just Olivia. So she isn't quite potty trained. Big deal. It doesn't really add much stress to our life.

So while I might have issues with myself, with my own image, with my sense of self and importance, the special needs thing? Isn't such a big thing.

This is not to belittle special needs. Because I know it's a big deal. The thing is, I know that there are a lot of kids out there with much bigger needs than Olivia.

She's just my kid.

I've never introduced msyelf as a mother of a special needs child. I'm a mother to two girls. I'm the mother of an eight year old and a four year old.

That's it. My girls are my life. I love them like I never imagined I'd love anyone. I'd die for them even though they can drive me nuts.

But that doesn't make me any different from any other mother out there.

When we realized that Olivia wasn't hitting her milestones like she should have, I never thought of her as special needs. Sure, she was delayed, but she was my girl. She was special because she was mine, not because she didn't walk until she was almost two and a half years old. This didn't make her more special in my eyes than Alyssa is.

So really, when it comes to parenting my kids, both of them, I may have my doubts as to my inherent abilities, but I'm good. I'm fine. Neediness and all.

Because in the end, loving them is what matters. Loving the heck out of them.

And last night, after yelling at Olivia for the eleventy-hundreth time for dumping cups full of water on the floor, I put her pajamas on her, braided Alyssa's clean hair and snuggled them both as they fell asleep, singing softly and holding hands.

There's something special about that. something needy. But special needs? We all have them to some extent. It doesn't make us any more special than anyone else in this big, crazy world.