Wonder Wednesday.
And what a wonder it has been.
This section of my blog was always intended to give you a little peek inside what it’s like raising neurodivergent kids while also finally accepting my own neurodivergency.
But please understand: not all neurodivergency is the same.
I still spend plenty of time WONDERING what the hell is going on inside their little minds.
And I know damn well there are plenty of people who wonder what the hell is going on inside mine. 😂
But one thing I firmly believe is that being set in our ways, having disabilities, being hyperactive, being overwhelmed, or simply experiencing the world differently does not mean we get to avoid responsibility or accountability.
You are allowed to not like something.
You are allowed to be frustrated.
You are allowed to need help.
You are allowed to have a disability that makes certain things harder.
You are still not allowed to be a dick about it.
Hudson had a hard stop into that lesson today.
I was sitting with Landon at the orthopedic appointment when my phone rang. The good news was that Landon is starting PT and strength conditioning, and if everything continues to go well, he should be cleared to get back on the football field in about three weeks.
Which, by the way, is literally all that boy cared to hear.
Football. Three weeks.
You would have thought someone handed him Christmas morning. 😂
Meanwhile, I’m sitting there celebrating with him when Hudson’s principal calls to let me know that he has detention tomorrow for bullying another student.
Hudson?
No.
This isn’t possible.
We’re talking about a child who cries over dandelion lives.
We’re talking about a child who has been bullied himself for much of his school career.
We’re talking about a child who stood up to people who were bullying his brother last year.
He wouldn’t.
Then the teacher messaged me.
Not only had he bullied another child, but he had also made comments about the teacher’s weight in front of other students, refused to do his schoolwork, and then told her that teachers aren’t professionals.
So now I’m upset and concerned.
First, he knows that I worked in special education. He knows firsthand how much work goes into that job. He knows how important teachers are.
So that’s not something I would expect him to just randomly say.
Second…
This isn’t him.
The child who has stood up for so many other kids—who has literally gotten into fights trying to defend other people—was now bullying those same kinds of kids?
Nope.
Momma don’t play that game.
We’re getting to the bottom of this.
There will be consequences.
There will be accountability.
And there will be a LOT of conversations.
So as soon as Hudson got home, I had him hand over his phone.
He tried to keep the tough-guy attitude with me.
Boy.
Drop it.
I know exactly what you need help with. I know your weaknesses. I wash your underwear.
The tough-guy act isn’t going to work on me. Okay? 😂
So we started with him being grounded from his phone, computer, and VR.
He asked how long he was grounded.
I don’t do timelines.
How long you’re grounded is up to you.
It depends on your actions from this moment forward.
Then I asked him what was going on.
He shrugged.
I asked why he thought it was okay.
Another shrug.
So we sat there.
We talked.
We had some silence.
And eventually, the real answer came out.
Hudson had made a new “friend.”
He wanted this friend to like him, so he started acting the way this friend acts.
Apparently, this friend has some character flaws.
And then there was the schoolwork.
Hudson needed help.
But he was embarrassed to ask for help.
And he was even more embarrassed to ask the teacher because he already felt like she was probably mad at him because of what he’d said earlier.
So instead of admitting that he needed help, he put on the tough-guy act.
“I don’t care. I’m not doing the work.”
Because apparently refusing to do the work is easier than admitting you need help. 🤦‍♀️
So on top of being grounded, he came home and did the work he refused to do at school, his homework, and wrote apology letters.
Not because saying “I’m sorry” magically makes everything better.
It doesn’t.
But recognizing how our actions hurt someone else is important.
Taking accountability is important.
Realizing where we could have been a better person is important.
And then actually trying to correct our behavior?
That’s important too.
We also talked about his new friend.
I told him that I cannot control who he chooses to talk to or who he chooses to keep in his life.
But I can tell him what is acceptable and what isn’t in my house—for any child in this house.
The older boys’ friends learned that one pretty quickly. 😂
But more importantly, I told him that we don’t need to change who we are to make somebody else like us.
If someone doesn’t want to be your friend because of who you are as a person, then maybe they’re simply not the right friend for you.
Don’t let someone influence you to be rude.
Don’t let someone influence you into doing things you wouldn’t normally do.
And don’t change the kind person you are just because you think it will make somebody think you’re cooler.
I told him that some of the strongest people I know are the people who can look at a crowd of people doing something they don’t agree with and choose not to participate.
He agreed.
I really hope that sticks with him.
Because let’s be honest for a minute.
Growing up, my parents told me I couldn’t talk to plenty of people.
And you know what I did?
Went to school and talked to them anyway. 😂
You aren’t going to completely control who your kids interact with when they’re all walking into the same building every morning.
What you can do is teach them how to make their own choices.
So my hope is that Hudson decides he doesn’t need to do things just because he thinks they’ll make a certain friend think he’s cooler.
My hope is that he stays true to himself.
And most of all, my hope is that he stays the kind-hearted soul he has always been.
Because underneath that tough-guy act, I know he’s still there.
Then there’s Louie.
Today Louie got off the van crying.
Why?
Because there was a toy he really wanted to put away, and another child got to put it away instead.
Literally crying over cleaning up.
Child.
I have plenty of toys here you can put away.
Go pick one. 😂
We got that situation taken care of.
And then…
Louie discovered he has his first loose tooth.
Have you ever had a child with sensory issues discover their first loose tooth?
Boy.
I was not ready.
😂😂😂
He is a complete mix of excited, terrified, annoyed, happy, and every other emotion you could possibly wrap into one little human being.
Every time his tongue moves it, he’s bothered.
Every time he eats, he’s bothered.
Every time the tooth moves for literally any reason…
MY GOODNESS.
But then he started talking about the Tooth Fairy, and suddenly he’s pretty dang excited about that part.
He also informed me that apparently the Tooth Fairy gives children $500 for their first tooth.
Inflation much?!
And then he told me he’s using that $500 to buy ten Mega LEGO sets when he loses this tooth.
I’m just letting everyone know right now:
He’s going to be very disappointed with the Tooth Fairy when that tooth finally comes out.
Because no, sir.
The Tooth Fairy is not getting a fourth job just to pay you $500 for something your body naturally does.
Okayyyyy? 😂
So here we are.
A kid learning that being embarrassed doesn’t give you permission to hurt somebody else.
Another kid discovering that sometimes cleaning up a toy is apparently a deeply emotional experience.
A loose tooth causing a full sensory crisis.
A football player counting down the days until he can get back on the field.
And me…
Already thinking about everything that needs to be taken care of tomorrow.
I’m looking at my mental calendar, figuring out what’s coming next, what needs to happen when, who needs to be where, what needs to be remembered, what needs to be packed, what appointment is coming up, what child needs what…
I don’t know if everyone can actually see images in their heads the way I do, but I can literally see a calendar in my mind.
Every appointment.
Every pickup.
Every drop-off.
Every obligation.
Every little thing that needs to happen.
All of it sitting in its own little time slot.
And honestly?
That might be one of the most exhausting parts of my life.
Because sometimes I don’t need someone to tell me what I should do next.
I already know.
Sometimes I don’t need another reminder.
I have approximately seventeen of them running through my head simultaneously.
Sometimes I just need the mental calendar to shut the hell up for five minutes.
But maybe that’s what Wonder Wednesday really is.
It’s not just wondering what’s happening inside my kids’ minds.
It’s wondering about my own, too.
It’s wondering why one child can be so compassionate and still make a really hurtful choice.
Why another can be overwhelmed by something as small as a loose tooth.
Why asking for help can suddenly feel harder than pretending not to care.
Why my brain can hold an entire week’s worth of chaos in a mental calendar while also forgetting where I put my coffee.
And maybe the biggest wonder of all is that somehow, through all of it, we’re still figuring each other out.
They’re learning who they are.
I’m learning who I am.
We’re learning how to communicate, how to apologize, how to ask for help, how to respect each other’s differences, and how to give ourselves a little grace when we don’t get it right the first time.
It’s messy.
It’s loud.
It’s exhausting.
It’s occasionally ridiculous.
And sometimes I still sit here wondering what the hell is going on in everyone’s heads.
Including mine.
But that’s the wonder of it, isn’t it?
We’re all still learning.
And tomorrow, we’ll get up and do it all over again.