Ignorance is a Bitch

It's been two and a half years since we were able to a get this diagnosis to explain just exactly was going in in D's life. A trip to a psychiatrist confirmed, but she felt this diagnosis was prevalent as well. The years leading up to this point was filled with feelings of poor mothering, embarrassment, loneliness, anger, and sadness. I will never forget telling a co-worker something D had done and him looking at me like I was to blame. All I really wanted was for him to be able to make it through a birthday party or playdate without having a complete meltdown. While I realize many moms have to worse, I wouldn't wish this on anyone, not even my worst enemy (of which I have many).

These past two years have consisted of weekly psychologist visits, weekly pragmatic group therapy and eventually medication. While the road has been long we have made progress. My parents remind me the glass is indeed half full. His school social worker also informs me progress is being made and "things will get better".

Then Friday happened. D had been complaining for the past few days off stomach pain. In typical mom fashion I shrugged it off and told him to go to the bathroom. Isn't that what your mom did with you? This Friday would be different. On and on the whining went and then I said, "Is something bothering you?" D informed me his close friend A's mom told A that D was a bully. I was shocked. This mother had the nerve after we had explained to her that D is on the autism spectrum. Her response, "Oh, I knew he had an aide but I didn't know that was why." Apparently her IQ of a tree frog has not served her well. In addition, a few weeks ago she told her son A, that D was "...too sensitive in a bad way." I have done my best in this blog to keep out names, but I am half tempted to post this bitch's name and address. When she dropped her kid off here about a month ago for a playdate and arrived SIX hours later we said nothing. Now, I will not remain silent. Actually I will, I am making J handle this one.

I have a tendency to get a little emotional when it comes to D. I know I will cry and seem like this weak little piss ant, so I will let J do the talking. While I won't be doing the calling I have plenty to say about what should be said to this mother. Here are a few choice questions I have for her. Feel free to e-mail me anymore suggestions.

So, since you find it necessary to pick on an 8 year old with a disability do you also...
a. spend your weekends in parking lots at the mall and make fun of people in handicapped spots?

b. think people with Alzheimer's don't try hard enough to remember things?

c. think your only child is a spoiled piece of shit who tried to leave our house stealing one of D's toys?

d. feel better about yourself knowing my kid is trying to find ways to make YOU like him?

Seriously though this beeotch better hope I never get a job as a teacher or administrator in a building where her son goes to school, because then, all bets are off! There I've said my piece.