Editor's Note: When I was asked if I'd be interested in participating in a Book Blog Tour for
Easy to Love but Hard to Raise
, here's what zipped through my multi-tasking brain:
- That is the most perfect book title. Do I get a free book?
- Wow, they found me. And they think I have readers and influence. Hahahahahah
- They can't make me like it. Will they want the free book back if I slam it? But with a title like that, I can't possibly NOT like it...
- I think we're out of milk.
So, yes, not only did I get a free book, but they also are graciously allowing me to send one to you too! (
Here's how you can win. Now, about that milk.) Even better, it turns out, I had nothing to worry about. I love this book just as much as the title. See, like many parents, when my children were first diagnosed with whatever, I scoured the Interwebs, the library and Amazon.com, pouring over every related title I could find. Next stage, I
avoided every related title I could find. I finally understood why my husband wouldn't watch any formulaic, special needs, feel-good films with me: "I live this every day. I don't need to watch someone else living it too."
Thankfully, this book is more like a trip to Starbucks with friends. The stories are honest, diverse and - in many cases - mine. I expect I will return to these stories again and again, for inspiration, comfort and camaraderie. Similar to another favorite compilation of essays,
The Elephant in the Playroom, this is a book I would give to any sister parent struggling with a new diagnosis (or lack thereof!). So welcome to my humble, little spot on the book blog tour. Coffee's on the house (but you'll have to brew it yourself).
For your reading pleasure, I am honored to share a post by Adrienne Bashista, co-editor of
Easy to Love but Hard to Raise, saluting all of us
Accidental Whac-A-Mole Champions of the World.
Guest Post by Adrienne Ehlert Bashista
My sophomore year of college I shared an apartment with two
friends, one of whom happened to be the accidental
Whac-a-Mole champion of Canada in 1986.
I say accidental,
because it went down like this: as a joke, he entered a Whac-a-Mole contest at
his local fair…and won. He was invited to the provincial Whac-a-Mole
contest…and won that, too. Then the Whac-a-Mole people paid to fly him and the
other provincial winners to a central location where they competed…and he won
that, too!
Before that initial contest he’d played Whac-a-Mole a couple
times in his life, but it’s not as if he’d prepared for it, studied for it, or
trained for it. Despite that, there he was, the national Whac-a-Mole champion
of Canada. A Whac-a-Mole expert, one could say.
When I was invited to do a guest post for this blog, this
memory of my roommate (who's now a very successful opthamologist in Seattle, by
the way) was the first thing that popped in my mind.
I LOVE the name of this
blog, because as the mother of a child with a neuro-behavioral disorder, I am
well acquainted with dealing with one issue only to have another pop up, then
another, then another, focusing all your time and energy on these issues only
to be overcome by them in the end.
But in remembering my roommate’s situation I
wanted to add to the metaphor: we’re not just Whac-a-Mole parents, us moms and
dads of children whose brain-based special needs result in behavioral changes,
we’re accidental Whac-a-Mole parents.
Few of us studied this, trained for it, prepared for it, or wanted it, and yet
– bam! Here we are. Experts in our children’s disorders. Avid researchers. Passionate
advocates.

This theme – accidental expert – is something we found to
ring true in pretty much all of the essays we collected for the book Kay Marner
and I edited
Easy to Love but Hard to Raise: Real Parents, Challenging Kids, True Stories
. None of the 32 parents, myself included, who wrote essays for the
book were handed a road map explaining their child’s neuro-diversity when that
child came to them, and even after diagnosis (which often came after years of
searching) few of them felt like they knew what direction to take. It’s a scary
place to find yourself in. People are judgmental. Having a child with
behavioral problems is confusing and isolating. It’s just you and your partner
(if you’re lucky to have one who understands), mallet in hand, facing the
Whac-a-Mole game that’s now your life. Alone and without a path, right? Wrong.
For this is
what we discovered in the process of putting the book together and through
writing our blog and maintaining
our Facebook page: you might
feel alone, but you are not. There are millions of people parenting children
with neuro-behavioral issues out there. And while their children may have a different
diagnosis than yours – their OCD to your Autism, for example, or their FASD to
your child’s anxiety and ADHD – the experiences and feelings of parenting are
remarkably the same. And although your child’s doctor or treatment team or
teachers or therapists may have good ideas about how to help your child,
nothing, and I do mean nothing, beats the experiences of other parents who’ve
already tried the therapies, behavior modification techniques, medicines, and
alternative treatments.
I’ve found that, while my son’s pediatrician will check in
with us for an hour once a year, other parents will spend hours sharing
resources and experiences and giving help. And while the occupational therapist
may suggest a new therapy – one which is not covered by insurance – other
parents of children with neuro-atypicalities will give alternatives, make
suggestions, and let me know whether or not they thought it was worth the cost.
And when I go in to see my child’s psychiatrist, I no longer visit wondering
what they can do to help my son with sleep issues, a constant state of
fight-or-flight, or alternating moods, I go to my appointment equipped with
research, articles, and suggestions for medication – all inspired by other
people who are in the same boat as I am in.
These are not people who I know in real life, by the way.
These are people who I’ve met through the Internet - which may not be the same
as seeing friends and family every day, but in a lot of ways it’s better. The
people I see every day do not have the same struggles that I do. They may think
they understand, but they truly don’t. The good news is, however, that there are
plenty of people who do.
So even though, as parents of special needs children, we find
ourselves accidental experts, we’re in good company. There’s a huge community
of accidental experts out there, and if you’re reading this, I’m betting you’re
one, too.
Adrienne Ehlert Bashista is the co-editor of and a
contributor to Easy to Love but Hard to Raise: Real Parents, Challenging Kids, True Stories
. She also moderates the Facebook page for the book as
well as the blog. She also
(sporadically) maintains A Square
Peg, A Round Hole, a blog about caring for a child with FASD (Fetal Alcohol
Spectrum Disorder), homeschooling, and life in general. The next book in the Easy to Love series is Easy to Love but Hard to Teach,
about the issues children, parents, teachers, and other folks involved in
learning face when trying to help neuro-diverse children learn. She lives in
central North Carolina with her husband, two boys, chickens, dogs, and bees.
*Don't forget to enter our giveaway for this book RIGHT HERE. Here's some good news: If you're reading this, your odds of winning already are pretty good. Yay!
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