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The Princess and the Parent Intake Form

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The Princess and the Parent form

The clock said 2:30. I took a sip of tea and did my best to enjoy the remaining moments of calm before the kids started coming home from school.

Then the phone rang.

A sweet, young voice was on the other end. It was a psychologist from our daughter Lizzy’s school. Usually I panic whenever one of the kids’ schools call.

This time I didn’t ask if all was well with Lizzy. I just said, “You’re calling about the parent intake form. I haven’t sent it in yet, and it’s overdue. Yes?”

I tried to be light in my tone and hoped I would manage to charm her with a joke or two about how much I hate these forms. This has been my M.O. the past 12 years of dealing with various forms like these, and it was my plan to do that now.

I apologized for being two days late. I then told her just how painful it is to answer the same questions every year. I thought I was doing a good job of being the cool and funny special needs mom I fashion myself to be. Then the young voice said something that made my carefully created facade crack.

“I understand how hard it can be Mrs. Radigan.”

All lightness from my voice left me when I asked her, “Do you have a child with special needs?”

She stammered a bit and then said, “No, I do not.”

Before I could even stop myself, I said, “Then you can’t possibly understand what it’s like to be asked to fill out this form every year.”

A part of me regretted what I said. I understood she was only doing her job, and her job couldn’t be easy.

She apologized and explained that although she doesn’t know what it’s like, she’s worked with many families. Then she went on to tell me the importance of the form.

“I know all about the importance of the form. I’ll have it to you by Monday, I’m sorry I was late. Thank you for your call.” This was said in my “all business” voice. Then I hung up the phone.

That’s one person who won’t be singing my praises anytime soon.

I could imagine the young woman reporting the conversation back to Lizzy’s teacher who I figured might say something like, “that doesn’t sound like Kathy.” At least that’s what I hoped she would say.

Tears I had no time for started to fall freely. I gave myself two minutes and then made myself stop. I knew my nine-year-old’s bus would be here soon. I found the form in a box I use for all the things I don’t want to face and set it out on the table so I could fill it out once he got home.

The first question dared me to look at it:

What special strengths, interests, and preferences does your child have?

For parents of children who don’t have the significant issues Lizzy has, this might be easy to answer. For me, it’s impossible.

Lizzy has extensive brain damage but none of the many specialists we’ve seen throughout the years has been able to tell us exactly what it means or how it came to be. We just know it causes my sweet girl so many problems. She also deals with mental illness. Whether this is part of the brain damage or a separate condition is something else we’ll probably never know for sure.

The way I sometimes describe Lizzy’s condition is to compare her to an amazing, high tech computer that has all the bells and whistles you could want. But each time you turn it on, you get another result. Some days it never turns on. Other days it turns on but gives you information that makes no sense. Then there are the days it may work perfectly for an hour or two and shows you just what an amazing machine it is, only to stop working again.

Even this description doesn’t accurately describe all the wonderful things that make up a girl who can light up a room and make the grumpiest person smile.

My daughter’s illness defies explanation and because it does, it makes it so difficult to predict what she’ll be like when she is 21. That is nine years away. Heck, I don’t know what she’ll be like in two minutes. As it stands now, I assume she’ll always need full time care

I work at finishing the form, crying sometimes, getting frustrated at others until I get to one of the last questions:

In which career(s) or specific job(s) has your child expressed an interest?

I write down the same answer I did last year:

Lizzy would like to be a princess. We’re aware that there are limited positions available at this time, but we believe if anyone can pull it off Lizzy can.

Of all the things I had to write down on this form, this is the one statement I truly believe.

 

 

Comments

  2. Bev says

    If that photo is of your Lizzy, she’s already a princess, and a beautiful one, at that. More hugs to you and yours.

  4. Lisa Weinstein says

    Hi Kathy – in my job, I work for a home health care agency and a significant portion of our business is providing care for children with special needs. I interview many moms and write stories for our website – and there are so many who have never been able to receive a definitive diagnosis to explain their child’s physical and developmental challenges. My heart aches for them, and I could never profess to understand their pain…just as I can’t begin to understand your pain. However, I do know that your blog brings your emotions to life in such vivid color, that I feel like I can almost, almost understand what you are going through. In the meantime, I am sending love, and calling up Disney to see if they have any openings for Princesses!! xoxo Lisa

    • Kathy Radigan says

      Lisa I will be picking your brain, I hope you know that! Lol! xoxo Thank you so much sweet friend for your lovely words. I do hope that by writing about our experiences people will get a glimpse of what we, and so many people go through. Love you! xo

  8. Katherines Corner says

    Kathy my beautiful friend, your soul shines brightly even when faced with challenges. Your sweet Lizzy is a prertty Princess and your response to that question is written with pure love. All hail princess Lizzy ♥ xox

  11. Elly says

    Kathy, I want to reach across the universal ether and hug you. This made me cry and just ache for you and your daughter. My son was born two weeks ago and he has Down syndrome. We’re in a similar place of not knowing what the future holds for him. I have so much empathy for you…I think I would have responded in much the same fashion.

    • Kathy Radigan says

      Elly it’s all so scary in the beginning. First, congratulations on the birth of your son! Second, I’m sending good thoughts and prayers that you find wonderful people to guide you in this journey. Please know that this piece focused on the harder parts. There are miracles and blessings too many to mention as well. Hugs and much love to you! xoxo

  12. Kerri says

    Oh I get this, so much do I understand. I hate that form. With capital HATE. I seem to focus on all Bridget is NOT doing and the questions are so absurd. Hugs to you for answering with honesty on the princess job. I think that is pretty spectacular. I think I told you this before but one time for person to contact in case of emergency I wrote: 911
    Kerri recently posted…To chew or not to chewMy Profile

    • Kathy Radigan says

      Kerri I really do love the 911 answer and will remember to use that one too!!! You are so right, the forms focus on what they can’t do and they feel as if they are designed to make us parents say, yes, I know we are screwed!! Lol! But I could be wrong!! xoxo Love to you!

  16. Kisma says

    Hi Kathy,

    While I don’t have a child with special needs, I can relate to the forms being filled out EVERY single year for two kids that have been in the same district since they were born.It’s annoying to say the least that I have to complete the same questionnaires time and time again. I wish they had the option at the beginning of the forms that says “has anything changed in your household” so I can simple answer, NO and move on and save them and myself time and frustration. I know this is not the case for all families including yourself. I adore the Princess answer! We should all be so lucky to have this goal of being a princess, or Batman! Thanks for sharing such a beautiful post!

    Sending hugs and love from Denver!

  17. Jen A. says

    God, I hate that damn form. Really really hate it especially that question and now that it’s Jr. Year of high school they really expect an answer. How am I supposed to know when he doesn’t have a clue what he wants to do from day to day?

    • Kathy Radigan says

      Jen I know, it drives me crazy!!!!! I wish they could have a form that was a bit more sensitive to the realities of having children with serious issues. xoxox

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Much thanks to Joseph Radigan, who besides being a great husband and father, also uses his talents to gently and ever so tactfully edit my blog. Joe is a business editor at Thomson Reuters in NY.
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