Today was tough.
As I sit down to write this, I’m crying and feeling ashamed and embarrassed. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but like I said, today was hard.
Our family and friends know our son is adopted and that he was born addicted to drugs. He has a lot more energy and speed than most 21-month-olds. We also know that, aside from his rough start with drug exposure, we don’t know much about his biological family or their genetics. So it’s possible he’s extra hyper because of things we just don’t know.
That being said, the people who don’t know us or our son don’t understand that. The “Karen’s” and “Susan’s” of the world don’t know about his history or my ability to parent him.
I use a backpack leash for my son.
I used to be one of those people who thought, “I’ll never put my kid on a leash. How could anyone not control their child?” I get it now. Every parent has said that before they had kids, but once you’re in the situation, things are different.
My son runs faster than I can keep up with. Because of scar tissue from my hysterectomy, I sometimes have trouble running with him. Just to be clear, I used to run races and ran every day before my surgery. It’s not that I’m lazy.
My son also hates being stuck in one place—whether it’s a car seat, high chair, stroller, or, surprise, a shopping cart. I use Shipt more often than I should because it’s really hard to take him out on my own sometimes. But life doesn’t always work that way, and sometimes we just have to get things done.
There have been times I’ve come home in tears because I had to leave stores without finishing shopping because he was having a meltdown. And I’ve gotten those dirty looks and rude comments too.
But today, today was even harder. We went to Target, and he wore his backpack leash. He did AMAZING. He was HAPPY, LAUGHING, SMILING, and yes, running, but he was right next to me.
Still, I got looks and side-eyes from at least five people. It made me want to grab my two items and leave.
I don’t understand why people feel the need to judge and shame moms. What works for your child might not work for mine. I’m happy that little Lucy never has meltdowns, but my child is different.
My son isn’t talking yet, and we don’t always understand each other. He’s in occupational and speech therapy, and he’s doing GREAT. He’s such a joyful, beautiful boy with so much energy.
I’m not sharing this for pity or sympathy. I just want to give a reminder to people who judge kids with leashes. My son doesn’t have a disability; he’s just a runner. My neighbors know he’s a runner, so much so that they chase after him too.
It takes a village to raise a child, and my village is amazing.
Credit to the rightful owner~