Not my style

Before parenting special needs kids, I was so nice, so sweet, so kind and considerate, compassionate and merciful, loving and gentle. People really liked this about me. I liked this about me. It's just not my style to be mean, ruthless, cutthroat, confrontational, combative, ugly, ornery and a general pain in the arse.

And then I became an adoptive parent of special needs kids.

I quickly discovered that my Sweet Sue attitude wasn't going to accomplish anything. Ever. So I morphed against the grain of my DNA and became

Atilla the Hun.


Just got off the phone with Judy, the very sweet lady at special services records department in my county's board of education department. She and I have tried for two weeks to get Sissy's records from RTC so we can do an emergency IEP. With the discharge date looming and no records in the county's hands despite numerous attempts, I'm getting ... annoyed.

Judy and I had a good laugh. "I'm persistent," I joked.

"I understand," she quipped back. She raised a son with special needs so she gets it.

"If nothing else, Mrs. Judy, they're going to do what I ask them to do..."

and Judy finished my sentence, "...so you'll quit calling and leave them the heck alone!"

"EXACTLY!" I snickered back.

Because who else is going to wage war for our kids if not us parents?

No one.

Atilla, move over. Someone meaner, uglier, nastier and more heartless has taken your place.

I am that woman.