When Nanny has blinders on…

Let me start this off by giving a bit of background:  My husband has had ADHD his whole life, he struggled as a child to get the help he needed in school because back when he was a child he was just labelled as “a problem” or “a distraction” and not given as much help as he truly needed.  As a result he never went to high school and got wrapped up with the wrong crowd for awhile as a teen.  He didn’t really have any positive influences to help him along the way.  Thankfully he is a strong man and was able to get his life on track, go to college, and be successful.  Alright, now on with the point to the post…

My mother-in-law came down this afternoon to spend some time with the boys while my husband and I got some things done around the house.  I am always happy when one of our family members can help with the kids, but it always comes with some kind of comment.  For some reason she is very resistent to having Tristan diagnosed with anything.  She tends to make comments that, “It’s just boys” or to the extreme of, “Oh, but he’s an angel!”  I think that it’s wonderful that she loves her grandson so much, but it’s actually rather hurtful to me.

Now, let me explain why it’s hurtful because I know that may seem a bit odd.  I struggle day in and day out with Tristan’s behaviour, some days he is awesome and we have so much fun, but then there are the other days where I want to shrink into a corner and cry.  As a mother, facing the fact that you can’t control your own child is a very dark place.  Now imagine this person who only sees your child for a couple of hours at a time, and always when you are offering a present or some fun activity, steps in and tells you, “This child is a saint!  How on earth could you be so cruel as to suggest there is something wrong with him?”  It stings.

It got to the point where I had to have my husband talk to her and explain what was going on.  He seemed to think that his mom got the message and would be better from now on.  Well, apparently not.  When we saw her today she just kept making comparisons between Tristan and my husband.  “Well you know, Nick used to not have any fear at all, he would just jump off of anything, at least Tristan is cautious” – or – “Well Nick was just a livewire, I could never get him to sit and read a book, at least Tristan will do that.”  So in other words, if Nick acted this way and had ADHD, Tristan can’t possibly have ADHD because he’s not exactly like his dad was.

It’s of course all completely ridiculous.  No two children are ever exactly alike.  And of course the difference also is she spent all day with her son, whereas she seems her grandson in small spurts at the best of times.

Sometimes I want to be really nasty to her and just say what’s on my mind.  Tell her how it frustrates me that she is so unsupportive when she herself had to deal with the ups and downs of trying to get through to a child with behavioural challenges.  And I just want to scream at her and say, “At least I am trying to help my son!  You ignored your child’s condition and left him to fend for himself, and look what happened?  He hated school, thought he was stupid, worthless…. that is cruel!”  But of course I can’t do that – she isn’t my mother, and it doesn’t feel like it’s my place.

I really tried to break through to her today, to explain what the days are like sometimes.  I told her about the time we went to the zoo with a friend and Tristan got so out of control that I could barely get him into the stroller to strap him in, and how in the process of doing this I got a bruise on my chest and a gouge down my cheek.  Once in his stroller he headbutted his brother and scratched for his face so that I had to take Gabe out and try to push the stroller while Tristan thrashed and screamed at the top of his lungs.   This didn’t phase her – clearly he was just tired.  Or I told her about how he continues to throw toys and hit Gabe if I even turn my back for a moment – apparently all children do this, it’s just normal jealousy (which is true, but not every five minutes).

I just don’t know how much longer I can stand it before I lose my temper with her.  I love my child.  I love Tristan so much that I am willing to fight for him!  I am tired of fighting with him, I want to help him to realize his potential.  The reason why he does these things is that he can’t control himself.  No one wants to feel like they aren’t in control of their own body, and so I am going to help my little boy to figure out how to control himself and manage his impulses.  Why, oh why, can’t she just see this?

Instead, once again, I feel like a terrible mother.