Meltdowns...

Friday really took a toll on me. I was supposed to clean my aunt's house, and was getting everything all ready to go. The plan was: big kids off to school, then drop Isaac off at school, Carol pick up Landon, go watch Jessica's play (which was awesome!), go clean Mimi's house. This is what happened: big kids on bus, Isaac woke up having a fit, Isaac had some sort of meltdown over I don't know what every 3 minutes the entire morning, Isaac wanted to lay on the sidewalk, NO then he wanted to be held, he wanted the back pack on...oh wait no he doesn't....THE ENTIRE WALK TO THE SCHOOL DOORS. He wanted to flop and literally just lay in the middle of the sidewalks, crosswalk, and in front of the gym door. I was carrying him to the school...while his 42 lb self was flopping and fighting me the entire time. After almost 2 hours of back to back meltdowns, and finally getting him in the school classroom all I could do was walk back to the car with Landon and try to cry without letting Landon see just how tired I was. I called my mom crying. I called my aunt crying and asked to clean another day. Carol picked up Landon. I went to the school, saw Jess in her play. Then I followed the assistant principal and gave him a piece of my mind about Brandon still not having a uniform. Yes, I threatened discrimination. I came home and cried some more and tried to just pick up the house. Clearing out clutter maybe to help clear out my mind. I probably should have just gone on and cleaned Mimi's, so I wouldn't feel like I still need to hurry up and do something.
I thought I was doing better today, then somebody came to the door and was going to do the flowerbeds. Yep, I hate them and worked it out that they would take most of the shit out. Guess what?! That's right...they did two bushes and left with my money. Lesson learned the hard way. So after cleaning up the mess they left this afternoon I cried some more about the money that was gone that D works so hard for. All because I wanted the front of the house to look better and I'm too lazy to do that shit myself. I guess they really need that more than I did. I'm trying to not dwell on it too much. I was about to post something (vent) on the autism fb site then I read something and it made me cry again (happy tears though) and I wanted to share with those who can't see it...
WELCOME TO HOLLAND
by
Emily Perl Kingsley.

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.
But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.