#1000Speak: Building from Bullying

You are not a perfect parent. Neither am I. So long as we're doing the best we can under our own circumstances, who cares what anyone else thinks? The blogging world is the place where parents can go to let themselves get away from some of the stresses of parenting, but bullies are constantly finding their way in the door. If they're not complaining about what we're writing, they're calling us out for what we're not writing.

Yes, we are writing about the stresses and joys of parenting, but that, in itself, is therapy for many of us who blog. It's our way of releasing our pent-up frustrations. It's a way to reflect on the lessons our children are teaching us every day.

There's also the fact that we're busy in the trenches, dealing with all of the bad stuff that you all so keenly want us to portray. Let's be honest, though, when we do talk about the real stuff, we lose likes and followers, people stop reading us because they don't like the truth of the matter. Because even though you want us to be more real, you also want us to be less messy, talk less about poop or vomit or 3 am viewings of Frozen that happen over and over again for months at a time. When we talk about the struggles and hardships, we're reminded to be grateful. Make up your minds, people.

I may be doggy-paddling my way through, but my head's above the water, and I think that's commendable – and guess what, it's commendable, kids or no kids. Surviving in this world is no easy feat; there are people who opt out every day – if you're not one of them, congratulations, you're doing okay – and that's enough. It would do the world good to remember that, to have some compassion.

It's enough for me, because I'm happy (mostly, I do battle depression, anxiety, etc) and more importantly, my kids are happy. They're not happy all the time, but they're toddlers, and in my opinion, toddlers are worse than teenagers (though I'm not looking forward to having teen twins).

My house is lived in, there are dishes on the counter, it's after 7 pm and I haven't cleaned up the boys' mess from dinner, and I don't remember the last time I was brave enough to clean the toilets. Sometimes the trash piles up and the living room is always a mess (toddler terrorists...why would I even bother?), but we have home cooked meals and snuggles and my boys' laughter can be heard more often than their screams and cries (though in the moment, it always feels endless).

When we first got the boys' diagnosis, I accepted it pretty readily because I'd been prepared for two years, but not everyone was able to just hear it and move on. Some people told me that if I just worked with them more, spent more time with them, that they would be just fine; it wasn't autism, it was bad parenting, they said. I have a hard time writing about that because it's in the past, it's behind us, but it still hurts. I don't really care what anyone thinks of my parenting skills – my boys are happy, healthy and their needs and wants are met to the best of our ability – that doesn't mean your words hurt any less.

So maybe bloggers are hesitant to put the real stuff out there, the hard stuff, because it's too painful to bear the hurtful comments, the judgment – because obviously everyone is an expert on your kid but you, when you're on the Internet. We get plenty of that in real life, from family and friends and strangers at the grocery. We receive that treatment from pediatricians, therapists, insurance companies and schools, why would we want to bring that to our happy place, our place to be at peace with the lives we must live to build a better future for the most important people in our world?

If our readers are going to call for more real and less flowery, then they need to be compassionate when we show that picture, rather than picking us apart, piece by piece. I realize the Internet is all about the drama, the entertainment factor, but we're real people behind these screens, we have feelings and need a confidence boost as much as the next person. Let's, instead of bullying, build each other up, help each other through the tough times and celebrate the joyful moments as often as we can.

Our work as parents, special needs or not, is hard. This is harder than any job I've ever had, harder than school, harder than anything else I've ever done, because the stakes are higher. I have the lives of two little boys in my hands, every day. They depend on me, completely, to take care of their needs, to help them, and to teach them.

I don't need your validation, but I appreciate your compassion.