I want to write and tell you what a wonderful birthday week Poss had. I want to tell you how proud we are that she managed her first week at school with no incidents to speak of. I want to write and share her birthday celebrations, the photos, the fun and the smiling faces. Or how well she did at swimming sports today, coming home with a swag of ribbons.
All of these things are true. They should be easy for me to write. Should be easy to share. There are lots of proud mummy moments.
But instead, I can’t seem to get past the hard. The shouting, the yelling, the kicking and screaming. The harsh words and the hatred. And not all directed at us; some of it thrown at her extremely patient and compassionate friends.
All the usual excuses apply. She is tired. It’s been a big week. It was noisy, loud and chaotic.
But the truth is, I wonder, does it matter? The other kids had all the same things happen. They all had big weeks, all with their own challenges to tackle.
Yet, none of them screamed at the other kids in a public place, before running off down a busy, crowded street. None of them punched and kicked their parents when they tried to hold them to calm them down. None of them shouted that she hated the others, calling them evil and never wanted to see them again, because a simple rule wasn’t obeyed. None of them screamed so badly, fought so loudly on the freeway that their parents had to pull the car over, twice.
I know they are different. It’s not fair to compare. Of course I know this.
We will always come back. There’s no other option, she’s our girl, it’s really just as simple as that. She can call me any word under the sun, but I will always be her Mum. That’s the benefit of unconditional love.
But her friends? They aren’t bound to her the way we are. At the moment, they know she is different and sometimes lashes out in frustration. They have grown with her over the past three years, showing unbelievable compassion towards her. They love her and accept her just the way she is.
But one day, maybe they won’t. One day they will tell her to fuck off. And if she continues to treat them like that, it will be rightly so.
When we told her that and explained that if she treated them like that, then one day she would have no friends, she responded that she didn’t care. Didn’t want friends anyway. Didn’t need them and was happy on her own.
Maybe that’s why I can’t write about the good stuff. What does it matter if she won some ribbons at swimming, if she doesn’t understand the need for friends?