It’s a weird feeling, driving Jude back to his school house every Sunday evening.
Throughout the journey, I analyse how the weekend has gone and inevitably shine a light on all the areas where I felt I didn’t make Jude’s time the best it could be. This weekend just ended was very up and down. Sunday especially, he wasn’t in a particularly great place. He had a wonderful time playing with his sisters and it’s so amazing to watch them interact so happily.
Emmeline’s face beams when she sees Jude walking in through the front door and even Elsa said that she was looking forward to seeing him this weekend. It’s glorious. But overshadowing this is Jude’s anxiety. It stops him from embracing every moment that he’s home and he misses out on so many things.
Sunday morning he wanted to come with me to Elsa’s athletics but panicked and had a meltdown because of the pressure to get dressed in time. I had been trying to get him dressed for about two hours and it was only once Elsa was already at athletics that he finally put some clothes on! I know that he really wanted to go but just couldn’t do it. I also know that I couldn’t help him how he needed to be helped because of time constraints (athletics starting at a certain time) and having two other children to help with all the morning chores. Horrid feeling and one that riddles me with guilt that I can’t (or don’t?) dedicate those precious forty eight hours of crazy, loud Jude time entirely to his needs and wants.
Am I a crap mum to Jude? I don’t know sometimes. Occasionally, I think I am but then other times I know I’m not because of the amount of energy I dedicate to him and his sisters. I know that if it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t have the help he currently has nor would he be attending that awesome school. But in a circular way, this highlights the fact that I’m not enough for him like I could be for the girls.
I’m in no ways looking for comforting on this matter. I just wanted to highlight (and perhaps clarity in my mind) what an odd concept it can be having a child like Jude. I’m his mum yet I can’t offer the care and protection he needs. It’s a fact that I’m still at times coming to terms with. So for example, when I dropped Jude back at school on Sunday evening, I ended up sitting in his room with him and three carers just having a chat. It was so lovely! He was so so happy but I felt marginally stupid for needing these wonderful people in our life. It’s entirely a self-imposed paranoia where I feel like that mum who can’t cope so she has to pay other people to take care of her son. And in a way, I guess that’s true. I, our family and Jude can’t cope with normal life as a whole. Again, I will use my web analogy. Jude lives at home in the centre of the web with us, his family. But he has all these fantastic extensions that allow him to form a happy life, school, teachers, support staff, therapists. All needed for Jude to survive.
A mum isn’t enough for Jude. It’s a weird feeling and sometimes a notion that my fragile confidence struggles to assimilate.