Why Play Dates Make Me Nervous…

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My daughter is five and has quite the social life! She’s made many friends from various facets of her life and my life combined – school, church, sports and recovery meetings. She’s the type of child who writes an invite list to her birthday party that’s longer than her Christmas wishlist. Needless to say, she is asked to join friends for play dates on a pretty regular basis.

This is where Mommy becomes more of a detective than parent. This is when I bust out with my list of questions for the parent who’s house I’ve never been to. I have to consider everything about the structure of their home and it’s accessibility to me before I can even decide if we’re able to go or not. Are there stairs leading into their home? If so, are there hand rails? Is the house all on one level? Are there carpets? Rugs? Toys or clutter of any kind in the middle of the floors that I’d need to try to navigate around? Is there an animal that might jump on me, causing me to lose balance? Or could that animal be so small and fidgety that I trip over them or can’t process all their movements in order to walk around it? What’s the bathroom like? Is there somewhere I can hold onto while in the restroom?

If you think this list of questions is long, think also of how I feel asking all of them: For starters, I never truly trust the answers that are given. I may trust the person completely in every other way, but able-bodied people do not have to think like I do. I myself never thought this way until I became disabled, so I surely can’t expect others around me to understand my needs immediately. I get nervous that something’s being left out: that small step up into the foyer; those 2 tiny stairs up the sidewalk that the person forgot to mention and oh, there’s no railing there either; the fact that the bathroom is on the second floor. I become concerned my daughter will be so excited the day of her play date yet when we arrive at her friend’s house, there will be some barrier preventing me from entering the home and we’ll have to either move to our house (which is way less exciting because other kids’ toys are always the most fun to play with!) or reschedule for another time and decide where to meet that’s accessible for me. And, there have been those instances where we’ve not made it into the house, even though I asked the litany of questions. I also feel guilty and can’t even pinpoint why – some of it is because I wish that we could just go like other families do; I wish I could be a ‘normal’ mom for my little girl. I have guilt when we must meet at our house, knowing my daughter enjoys playing with toys that aren’t hers. Yes, kids often bring toys from home to share, but it would be nice if my child could get out of our home more.

I feel like I’m interrogating the other parent; as if I’m making sure they have the “right” kind of home. I worry they’ll be insulted by all my questions – here they are, treating me like any other mother (which I deserve to be treated as, by the way) but I’m asking them tons of structural questions and focusing on my differences. I feel like it may seem I’m making a big deal out of a simple play date – “Wanna come over and play?” It’s a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question! Not an opportunity to ask for the blueprints of the person’s house!! But, it’s also what I must do in order to know what my answer will be. There’s a small part of me inside that whispers quietly, “This is okay. Don’t feel guilty. Don’t stress out. God didn’t make a mistake in making you nor making you a mom.”

That wee small part of me also insists that it’s just a play date. The important part isn’t WHERE the playing occurs but the HOW (with enjoyment and happiness) and WHY (because my daughter is a wonderful, funny, compassionate friend) and also that it IS happening. When she’s twenty, I’ll ask her if she remembers having play dates with friends – I bet her answer will be along the lines of “Oh, yes! I had lots!” instead of “Yeah, but they were always at my house.” She’s got the best attitude about everything… even though her mom’s attitude can be saturated with worry, anxiety and guilt! Guess that’s just another thing that proves I’m like any other mama!

When my Limited Body Was No Match for the Limitless Love of my Daughter

My daughter is only allowed to watch a small number of television shows (yes, I am one of those parents). One of her favorite shows is Paw Patrol; I don’t use the word favorite lightly – she owns Paw Patrol dolls, pajamas, figurines, vehicles, stickers and don’t forget the light-up tennis shoes!! Nearly 4 months ago, I saw an advertisement stating that Paw Patrol Live! was coming to our city for the first time ever. I jumped on the chance to buy tickets but was faced with a decision: I usually use my power chair in public and especially at big events like this; it’s safer for me and ensures that I’m comfortable during the show but also don’t suffer pain & fatigue afterwards. However, this particular theater only has wheelchair seating in the very back – WAAAAAY back. Should I get tickets in the orchestra section where we’d be close to the stage and have a great view? Or should I get seats in the wheelchair section like I normally do? It seemed like a difficult decision to make… for about 2 seconds. I wasn’t going to Paw Patrol Live! for me – I was going so my daughter could be filled with amazement, joy, excitement and so that I could witness these feelings as they melded across her face. Yep, orchestra section it was!! Besides, I’d just ordered a sturdier, safer cane and was still walking pretty well for the most part. Some physical pain & discomfort were a small price to pay in order to see my daughter enjoy the show up close. I thought, 4 months ago, “I can do this! She’s worth it!”

Did I mention that was 4 months ago? Four long months in which my body regressed further in unexpected haste. When the day of the show came, I was walking very little, even at home. The only place I don’t take my chair to at all is a meeting house because I’ve yet to measure the doorway to make sure it will fit. I hadn’t realized I’d be this further into my illness & disability when I purchased the tickets. I’d felt so sure of myself then; when showtime came, I was much less confident.

Tickets in hand, excitement in our hearts, smiles on our faces, we went to the theater. My mother drove us so I didn’t have to deal with parking. We walked into the lobby where there were NO seats available! Not that people were sitting in them – the lobby was simply void of benches or rest areas!! I stood with my daughter in line to enter the theater and gave myself an internal pep talk, trying to feel capable of the physical task before me. When we got into the theater, I realized I’d gotten us FANTASTIC seats!!! But fantastic seats were more than halfway down the section and in the middle of the row – go mom! My sweet little girl waited so patiently as I made my way down the steps to our row, urging me to “go slow,” “don’t let go of the railing” and to “be careful.” I made it!! Then we awkwardly walked to our seats (well, she walked a lot less awkwardly than I did; I took out several adult feet and some small toes with the tips of my foot base!).

The show was AMAZING (and I strongly urge families with young children to see it)!!! Our seats were INCREDIBLE!!! The joy and awe on my little one’s face was worth every step cautiously taken!!! We had a BLAST!!! 

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Afterwards, I made it painstakingly up the steps, back out into the lobby to wait in a line for slightly overpriced merchandise (because we needed one more Paw Patrol doll, of course!!) and then waited on my feet for nearly 15 minutes before my mom pulled up to whisk us away. My lower body literally felt like it was on fire; I ached like I hadn’t in a long time; my toes & feet were numb but tingling painfully yet we had the time of our lives and inside, I couldn’t have felt better!! I don’t know if I’ll be able to do something like that for my daughter again and if so, for how long. But it was done the other day and I’ve cried while thanking God for the ability to walk, stand and go up & down stairs even though it hurt and was hard. I know one day, I wont be able to do any of that any longer so I’m grateful for every movement I CAN make and every ability I still possess.

My ability to love completely outweighed my inability to move like I once did – how can I not be thankful for that?!?!