I am the mother of a special needs child. Most days I feel like the battle tested, warrior, fight-to-the-death, mother of a teenager with big feet and messy hair. My son is “on the spectrum” or as some people whisper quietly, “He’s Autistic.” One hurdle for us is that he is on the end of the spectrum in which most people can’t tell. They just think he’s quirky. This has made fighting for his rights, especially in the school system, much more difficult. I could write a novel about life with him. This blog isn’t about that. Well, it is, but just on the surface.
The end of the school year is IEP time in our house. When I think about me during IEP time, I imagine myself in an 80s movie where the mom is wearing one of those unfortunate suits trying to “fight the man.” I have color coded file folders that measure a foot high when carried together. One for medical. One for school. One for therapy. My favorite (dripping with sarcasm) is the folder with policies and guidelines for special needs children and all of my rights as the parent. The papers in this folder are highlighted, coffee stained, post-it-noted, and covered in my chicken scratch notes.
I’m the lady who walks in with items spilling out of her purse. Sometimes with a younger sibling in tow carrying goldfish and juice. I absentmindedly ignore the looks between people in the room when they see said goldfish and juice, and runny nosed sibling. I pull out all my folders, a pen, pencil, highlighter, and usually something embarrassing out of my oversized bag. After the pleasantries and welcoming words from the leader of the meeting, everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats as I pull out my never-ending list of questions. My MO is to question them to death. I’ll stop here and save you from my diatribe against the school system and my plan to overhaul the entire US educational system.
After these meetings, I’m usually a little, well, a lot stressed. On these days I plan ahead. I have dinner in the crockpot and cold brew coffee in the fridge. The coffee is my prize after the fight. The spoils of the battle. It is my little way to relax and refocus. I stream the Elevation Worship station on my speakers, add ice to my coffee, and sit in my favorite chair in the sunroom. I burrow into the soft cushions while listening to my music as I take my first sip. The sweetness soothes my mind as the words in the music flood my heart with songs of praise. You see, I need this time to remind me that the maker of my son is in control. My messy haired, spectrum kid is in His hands, not mine. God made me the Mama Bear of this kid so I will “keep on keepin’ on,” in His strength, not mine. As I prepare for IEP season I will enjoy my coffee with the knowledge that, just like Gideon, I am God’s mighty warrior.
IEP Iced Coffee
4 ounces of ground coffee
4 cups of water
Ice
Cheesecloth (I usually just use a very tight strainer three times through)
Optional ingredients to flavor coffee: heavy cream, milk, honey, maple syrup, cinnamon, caramel, etc
Combine coffee and water in a glass jar. I use an 8-ounce canning jar to leave plenty of room for the extras. Let coffee steep for at least 12 hours in the refrigerator. Strain coffee grounds. Add ice and optional ingredients until it’s irresistible to you. I use whole milk, maple syrup, and a splash of Kalua on IEP days. Yum!
