I’ve been accused many times of being a Mama Bear when it comes to my son. When it’s said, it is tossed at me as an insult. But I don’t take it that way. I stand a little taller.
My son was diagnosed as mildly autistic right around the time he was three. At the time — about 11 years ago — that was considered an early diagnosis. The reason he was diagnosed so early was because I called the hospital’s autism clinic every day to find out if there had been a cancellation that would make my son’s estimated six month wait for diagnostic testing shorter. I think they got tired of me calling and begging and wheedling.
For the first years my son was in elementary school, I walked into the classroom every single day after school to find out how my son did, what other team members like therapists needed to know about his skills, and what the teacher needed in terms of resources. Then I called the district, emailed board members, and generally made myself a nuisance.
When other children teased my son, I contacted their parents. When teachers penalized him for autistic behaviors (as opposed to being a pain, or uncooperative, or sassy — and it’s fairly easy to tell the difference once you get to know my son) I called them on it.
I learned quickly that being liked wasn’t important in this instance. That’s a big deal for me because being agreeable and liked is a Big Thing for me — something I work on with my shrink because I let people walk all over me in the hopes they will be my friend. But when it comes to my son, I don’t care if people like me. That my son — who at four couldn’t utter a novel sentence and wasn’t potty trained until mid-way through Kindergarten — is a mostly normal kid who is in mainstream middle school classes and largely holds his own with few supports and accommodations is because I was willing to be a pain in the butt, a squeaky wheel. And also that we had reasonable insurance and good credit to pay for therapies that helped my son reach his potential.
On this Mother’s Day, I’m proud to be a Mama Bear. I have to growl a lot less at the school district lately. Now, the Mama Bear shows her claws at her teenage son, whose snide comments, affinity for dropping f-bombs, and challenging attitude are all straight out of the Teenage Mutant Raging Hormone handbook.
It’s good to keep in practice for when he starts high school and there is a whole new bunch of teachers to learn about me.
Good for you – being a strong advocate for your son.
Thanks for such honesty! I need to work on my Mama Bear in certain areas. When it comes to my middle daughter’s severe allergies (20 foods make her sick, 3 groups of foods are life-threatening), my claws are sharpened and ready to go. But when it comes to matters of the heart (my oldest is having trouble with mean girls and is heading to middle school in the fall), I don’t know how far to push. It’s one thing with the allergies, another entirely when facing other Mama Bears about how their girls are treating mine. Nobody said parenting was easy!
If we don’t stand up for our kids, who will? How is he doing now?
He’s a typical teen — I’d like to put him on an island. Or leave him here and send me to an island. But he’s also a funny, smart, and sweet kid.
Good for you. I try to let my kids – teens, now – handle as much as they can on their own. I figure it’s a life skill they need. But when I need to? You bet I’ll step in and advocate for them!