The “Shut Up About…” Blog

I’ve never been a big fan of change or transitions. It’s probably why I’ve had the same hairdo since fifth grade and why I’ve been married to the same man for sixteen years (“Mike, we can’t get a divorce. I’m not good with change”).

And it’s pretty sad that after all our time together, my husband has no idea how far I’ll go to avoid change.

“Gina, did you get your oil changed like I asked you to?”

“What’s the point? I thought the oil in there was doing a pretty good job.”

My husband, on the other hand, seems to have no problem with change, particularly when it comes to his television habits.

“All right Michael, pick one. It’s either Planet of the Apes, Three Stooges, or The Girls Next Door.”

Change is difficult for me to manage in so many aspects of my life. But when it comes to raising my 12- and 8-year-old daughters with special needs, it’s nearly impossible.

Take for example, when they begin the transition to a new grade in school. Each summer, I work myself into a panic worrying that their teachers won’t understand their learning difficulties.

But fortunately for me, their teachers have been pretty quick to pick up on my concerns.

“Yes, Mrs. Gallagher, I’m well aware of Emily’s past difficulty with polygons, I saw it in the information packet you provided. You sure put a lot of time into that video.”

“Yes, Mrs. Gallagher, I realize that Katie doesn’t eat lunch. I was tipped off by the plastic food in her lunch box.”

It’s also difficult for me to deal with the physical transitions, specifically with my 12-year-old daughter Katie with Asperger’s syndrome. It’s seemed like almost overnight, my little girl has transformed into a shapely young woman. A young woman, who has ventured into unchartered territory for me.

“Mom, your AAA bra is too small for me. Can you buy me a bigger size?”

Yes, as much as I try and fight it, Katie is maturing physically and emotionally in ways that I’ve never expected. And quite honestly, I’m just not sure if I (or our Fire Department) am ready for it.

“Look Mom! I’m ironing my own clothes.”

“That’s great, Honey, but could you not point the iron at me when you’re talking.”

The other day, I was shocked to learn that Katie hit an important girlhood milestone without me.

“Mom, can you buy me a new razor? ”

“Why? That scooter you have is fine.”

“No, not that kind of razor, a shaving razor.”

“You mean your legs? You haven’t shaved your legs have you?”

“Duh.”

“But I wasn’t ready for that. And I had it all planned. I would teach you to shave your legs and then we’d go to Chuck E. Cheese’s to celebrate.”

“Mother, be serious.”

And that’s another subtle change that has bothered me. Almost overnight, I went from Mommy to Mother. Who told her she could do that? Next, she’ll be calling me GG or even worse, “The Genester.”

I guess I should be happy. Because as a mother of special needs children, I’m always hoping and praying my daughters reach important milestones. Of course, when they finally do, it gives me even more anxiety.

For example, I used to worry that my Asperger’s child would never make friends. Now that she has them, I worry that she’ll get in with the wrong ones. I used to tell her not to forget to take her medicine and now I’m reminding her not to do drugs.

There’s no question, change is tough. I’m just glad I have my husband to see me through it.

“Gene, why is it dark in here?” Don’t tell me you didn’t change the light bulbs?”