Notes from the Practical Parent, K.P.D.
Is it possible to love being a parent while feeling totally tired of being a parent? Actually, I know the answer to that and it’s exactly where I’m at right now. I’m in my 27th year of parenting two twice exceptional kids (ten years apart) and I am not ashamed to say I’m feeling burned out.
Lucky for me, it’s nearing that magic time of summer I look forward to every year… camp drop off. It may be against social rules to admit this publicly, but I’m counting the hours (54 to be exact) until I release my darling child into the capable hands of an amazing camp staff.
Once my darling child establishes residency in their cabin in the woods, I’m ready to celebrate my new-found freedom! I will immediately drive to a camp-adjacent groovy small town. I’ll linger over a lovely veggie packed meal with no dietary restrictions or eye rolls. I’ll sip a foofy cocktail while sitting on a patio, nonplussed about said darling’s irrational yet difficult fear of flying insects. I’ll stroll through town without pleas to hurry up because online gaming friends are meeting in a half hour and someone can’t “let their team down!” I’ll command the radio on my drive home, and might even opt for silence. I could stop for refreshment at an amazing coffee shop in Brooklyn without a NATO-style negotiation. I’ll savor my freedom and tranquility with no interruptions about WWII weaponry and the demise of Fascism in the Mid 20th century. I’ll cross bridges without being deluged with information mid-span about the crumbling national infrastructure and dangers of aging super-structures.
I’ll arrive home to no socks on the bathroom floor or trash left on the counter inches away from the rubbish bin. I’ll sleep an extra 30 minutes without worrying about who’s woken up in time for work. No one will eat all the fudgesicles before I get a chance to have one. Bliss I tell you! Pure bliss.
After a few days I’ll venture into their room to pick up stray laundry and tidy up a bit. I’ll notice the bear they still sleep with and the things in their room that represent who they are and what makes them tick: anime, WWII memorabilia, their grandpa’s old typewriter, half finished Mad Libs, Mad Magazines, dirty clothes shoved behind a bookshelf. Then I’ll realize, I miss them!
In those moments I’ll understand that while I say I’m sick of being a parent, what I’m really sick of isn’t my child. I’m worn thin by the intensity of being a 2e parent. Parenting any child is hard work, but the amount of advocating, diffusing and accommodating that’s required with many of our kids adds a challenging layer to the endeavor.
It's vital for us to find camps, friends, therapists, family, support groups or whatever makes sense to you to carve out the time needed to hit your personal reset button. For me, these few weeks of camp each summer make a huge difference. We’ve been fortunate to find a camp that understands anxiety and homesickness and celebrates quirkiness. The best part is that when I drop off my complicated and delightful child I know they are safe, supported and loved. With that assurance, I can feel safe too, safe in being able to focus on me for a short time. I revel in it. It reminds me that I’m strong, and how much I am still my own person.
So, in 54 hours, I’ll drop my kiddo off. I’ll savor the freedom for maybe, say… 72 hours and then I know I’ll keep enjoying the autonomy, but slowly it will creep in that I miss my taxing teen and will be counting the hours (about 624) until I can see their smiling face again. Parenting twice exceptional kids is rewarding and exhausting. It’s okay to acknowledge you need a deserve a break, or foofy cocktail, or control of the radio. Make sure you get it and you’ll be a better parent for it!