Saturday, February 4, 2012

Respectfully declining the cape

Someone mentioned the other day that they think I qualify for the supermom club.  I’m flattered and appreciate the invitation but I’m going to have to respectfully decline and just wait for an invitation to the cool mom club instead. Let me explain.



I think I have a strong application for the cool mom club. My 11 year old has had permanent hot pink hair, bleach blond highlights, dark brown coloring, and I even highlighted my hair neon blue along with her last summer. She got her own cell phone years before her dad thought was necessary and I’ve totally supported her Little Miss Matched room even though I don’t always understand how the colors really go together. I’m even cool enough that we can share fashion scarves and nail polish although I’m probably not authorized to share that information with the general public.  My coolness application may be slighted hurt by the fact I’m not allowed to share anything about the preteen on facebook without her prior authorization.  Do you think the committee will hold this against me?



Caden loves celebrating holidays. I have indulged this desire by keeping our family room one nonstop decorated zone complete with colored lights year round.  We decorate for every holiday you can imagine including a few we don’t even celebrate. I make his favorite flavor of muffins and pretend like I enjoy playing Super Mario.  I’ve even been learning the parts and pieces of trains and cars and I can recite all of the characters on Super Mario, Donkey Kong, and SpongeBob. Hopefully the committee can overlook the fact that I really stink at most of these games and Caden usually just carries my character through the game so that I can reach the finish line.



See I really am a cool mom and I should get invited to that carefree highly rewarded just plain fun club.  Don’t get me wrong it takes a lot of work to be a cool mom but it’s focused on fun times and making my kiddos happy. This is a club membership I can handle.



The supermom club membership comes with a lot of baggage. It means spending hours waiting for doctor’s office to call and then coming up with a plan B when they don’t have a clue because they know nothing about the combination of diseases that my kids have. It means ruining your children’s Friday nights by telling them that the next day is “needle” day and that instead of saying yes to a rare 5 year old’s birthday party invitation at the beloved Chuck E Cheese reminding a precious little boy that instead of fun he needs to spend his Saturday in the hospital. It means holding your child down for an IV as he is screaming “please no owie” while the other child is growing increasingly anxious about the IV she knows that she is getting next. It means trying to be semi-successful at one’s profession while finding time to be school board president of the kids’ school because you know you have an obligation to be involved with the educational system. It means constantly researching for therapy options that might be available in the community or at local colleges that don’t require insurance or payment because you know that your child isn’t getting everything he needs for autism.  It means juggling medicines and appointments and therapies with a “normal” childhood. 



The supermom club involves sleepless nights either because your child isn’t sleeping or because your brain can’t take a break long enough to relax. The supermom club equals a lot of tears for everyone involved and honestly it just seems like a never ending list of responsibility.  I mean how do you judge success in the supermom club? Is it the mom who doesn’t have a nervous breakdown? Is it the mom whose kids stay alive despite constant life threatening infections? Is it the mom whose child makes the most progress in the mom versus autism battle? Is it the mom who celebrates her much older than typical child finally being potty trained and learning to fasten his pants on his own? Is it the mom who jumps up and down with joy because this month’s strategies for getting the child to cooperate for the IV didn’t include sedation medications or restraints? Is it the mom who realizes that nothing is ever really enough? Is it the mom who would give anything and everything to just give her kids a “normal” day of being just a kid?



Like I said I’m honored for a nomination but I am going to respectfully decline. I’m waiting for my cool mom invitation although my preteen has in no uncertain terms let me know that I’m going to be waiting for this invitation for a very very very long time. But that’s okay, we’ve got time. My kids are going to beat their immune deficiencies and we’re going to win our battle against autism because failure isn’t an option. But darn it I’m going to find a cool way to beat failure---none of that supermom club stuff for me.