The Mum.

 

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I am The Mum.

I am the mum who tries her best.

The mum who tries to get her kids to school and dressed in their uniform, their teeth brushed and their hair tied up.  Book bags packed and reading records filled.  To have play dates with friends and swimming awards reached.  To hold her kids hands when they are scared and to give them the confidence to try new things.  The mum who cooks them wholesome meals and runs them around in the fresh air.  Who washes their clothes and goes to the shops.  Who hoovers their room and mops the floor.  The mum who puts the heating on and keeps them snug.  Who reads them magical stories of faraway trees.

I am The Mum.

I am the mum who smiles through fake eyes.

The mum who sits weekly in the Head’s office to re-integrate their child to school after many an exclusion.  The mum who rushes through the corridor to collect her child as quick as she can, hearing the echoed words “it’s ok, the mum’s here now.”  The mum you watch as her child runs into the road.  The mum who has to stay calm and use gentle tones to resolve the situation when inside she’s screaming.  The mum who pulls their child off the slide because they are purposely blocking the path of others.  The mum of the child you chose to stare at who threw herself on the floor because she hurt herself in public.  The child who looked at you and screamed ‘why are you staring at me?!’

I am the mum of the child who you wouldn’t accept her apology.  The mum you raged to ‘What kind of child does that?’  Yes I am the mum of that child.  The child who really can be an angel underneath.  I am the mum you said “Give her to me, she wouldn’t survive five minutes, I’d whip her into shape.”  The mum you didn’t feel she knew what she was doing.

The mum the Head teacher wrote to “Good luck curbing her behaviour traits.”

I am The Mum.

I am the professional mum.

The mum who has to fight to find out what is wrong with their child.  Who has to learn to be the professional.  The mum called in to the class as all the other children leave.  The mum who is told maybe they are over compensating, maybe it’s their parenting skills.  The mum who begs to be listened to.  I am the mum who is tired of fighting.  The mum whose scared to go out.  The mum who gets kicked and punched by the child she loves unconditionally.  I am beyond being the mum.  I’m now the advocate, the teacher, the play therapist, the speech and language assessor, the paediatrician, the friend, the carer.  I am the mum of the child I diagnosed myself.

I am the mum of the child with a hidden disability.

I am the mum you chose to judge.

The mum who cries behind the curtains and can’t keep up the charade.

I am The Mum.

7 comments

  1. Beautifully written, heartfelt & heartbreaking. Stay strong, the word will spread, awareness will grow and support will be on the horizon. Much love to you all.

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  2. Totally get it! Unfortunately my school don’t see the violent child that I have seen, except 3 times, isn’t 3 times enough? Apparently not! I am also the mum of the child I diagnosed myself. School – Mum is adamant she has PDA. Apparently PDA describes half their children!

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    • It’s so frustrating isn’t it, we are so much stuck in a society where we assume behaviours stem from parenting first. How much better things could be if they listened to you, that just shows further your daughter will be misunderstood and then more frustrated afterwards. I hope they begin to listen x

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  3. Gentle hugs from The Mum, who’s child’s teacher saw the model pupil…and offered me a sticker chart for behaviour at home….we home educate now….

    Like

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