What I’m saying, and what my children are hearing, are two different things.  Apparently, this is universal because Charles M. Schultz, the creator of The Peanuts comics, demonstrated  this when his child characters were speaking to adults the voice answered back:  “Wah Wa, Wa Wah, Wa.”  At least Charlie Brown responded back “yes, Mam.”  In my case, it involves two of my children in very different ways.  Two of my brood are special-abled, also referred to as disabled or special needs individuals.  I am the primary caretaker.  I have incredible support from my husband, but I get the daily grind, doctor visits, school meetings, trips to the social security office and the innumerable other responsibilities that come with this job.  My 26-year-old daughter, Lindsey and 11-year-old son Luke have different needs when it comes to communication.  They are both verbal and speak clearly, and they both have working memory deficits, executive functioning deficits, anxiety, and impulse control issues.

I have friends in similar boats with either their own special needs children or a parent or spouse with Alzheimer’s or Dementia.  I certainly know I am not alone and I don’t want to compare my troubles with yours.  I will walk my walk and everyone else can travel their way, I know how much I can carry and my shoes fit me just fine, thank you very much.

Lindsey needs constant reinforcement of what is going to happen next.  I can tell her and she will still ask “when are we going?” My response is typical “what did I just say?”  I can put it down on paper, put it on the calendar on her cell phone, use a whiteboard, ask her to write it down but it seems to reassure her more when she hears it directly from me.  Sometimes, I give her a different answer to see if she is even really listening or just going through the steps of verbal waterboarding to break me down.  Imagine that cross-country car ride with your child asking “when will we be there?” like it was the movie “Groundhog Day” times ten.  After all of these years I keep hoping that it will click into place and she will get it and I keep saying the same thing, what do they call that, insanity?  Yep.

Luke can be a chatterbox but his dialogue changes along with his preferred topic of the day.  I have learned one heck of a Bigfoot call and I know how to wood knock now thanks to a guy named BoBo.  He is also extremely demanding.  When things do not go his way he becomes both physically and verbally explosive.  Some of you have probably seen us in a local store during a meltdown and either thought “what a spoiled brat, bless her heart, or in my day a good spanking worked.”  You wouldn’t believe the things uninformed people say, often out loud.  The good news is that I know Luke can’t hear them at that moment.  I keep talking and I try a hushed voice and loud voice and then I have a moment of frantic agitated voice (usually when I’m afraid that he is going to hurt himself or someone else accidentally).  I try soothing words and threatening words.  I’m never sure what he hears.  Then magically it stops and I’m able to get him to remove himself from the scene.  In an instant, he can become charming and run to pick up a large stick he sees and slam it against a tree proudly declaring that Bigfoot is sure to hear that wood knock.

Every day I keep clucking away.  With a cluck-cluck here and a cluck-cluck there…you know the verse.  All that clucking gets tiresome and some days I’m just worn out and instead I howl in frustration.  Other days we have victories, some small and others large and I crow like Chanticleer!  Old MacDonald was obviously a Mother Hen, with a cluck, howl, crow and most days I’m on the farm with her.

These photos were taken on a field trip to Lyndon Baines Johnson Historic Site in Stonewall close to Johnson City, Texas.