Oh how things have changed and thank goodness for it. Today at least mothers have rights and a voice. Sometimes I imagine what it would have been like to have had a child with special needs in the 1950s. Here are some of the things a mother of a child with special needs might have said at that time:
Sometimes when I think about certain school personnel I say bad words; and then I give myself a time-out.
When I’m upset with the school people, I bake a banana bread and I imagine their faces when I pummel the bananas.
As soon as I find my pearls, I’m going to march right into the Superintendant’s office and register a complaint.
I’m a people pleaser; the school Superintendant is a people pisser-offer.
Sometimes I just want to bring my iron to an IEP meeting and let off some steam.
Just one more sip of this cooking sherry and I’ll be able to tell the school people what I really think.
If only I could dust the cobwebs out of the Special Education Director’s head.
When it comes to school issues, I just can’t wash all my cares away.
If only Robert Young were at this IEP meeting, he’d know what to do.
Sometimes I wish for a new washer and dryer, and other times I wish my children were out of school.
There’s no excuse for school peoples’ craziness now that the lead paint is out of the schools.
Every now and then I think back to a better day when the Driver’s Ed teacher doubled as the Special Ed Director.
Sometimes when I sell baked goods for the PTA, I glare at the Special Ed Director.
Do I have to raise my hand to give my opinion at an IEP meeting, or do I just interrupt like everybody else?
I always take the time to match my purse with my shoes, why can’t they match my child’s services to his needs?
Is my skirt too short, or is the Special Ed Director just not hearing a word I’m saying?
Sometimes I believe what they tell me at school meetings; and then I increase my medication.
If my house were any cleaner, you’d think I didn’t have a child with special needs.
Now through the miracle of modern technology, I can write a parent input statement and clean my oven at the same time.
I moved to this neighborhood for a white picket fence and better schools, at least I have a white picket fence.
My eyes always tear up at IEP meetings and I’m not even chopping onions.
If I chop up all my meat and potatoes now before my IEP meeting and
throw them in a crock pot, by the time I come home, I can have both a
good cry and a healthy stew
If I weren’t such a lady, I’d take the school OT aside and show her a little finger isolation of my own,