So your child likes to act like a child – he likes to spin in circles and knows a lot about dinosaurs. When’s your “national anthem” gig? What’s his special gift? Has he composed a symphony yet or cured cancer? Is he an alien race merging with earthlings? Is he the spiritual evolution of our race?
In what part of his specialness and “freeform upbringing” so not to damage the tender snowflake did he potty train himself, and teach himself to talk? You didn’t need any “early intervention” or therapies to help him up to speed developmentally?
How lucky for you that you have groomed your child into a nice citizen, and acquired all the special “diagnosis badges” of honor. You have a list of ribbons adorning your mini-van. Everyone opens doors for you and cares about the day to day care of your child and of YOU THE PARENT.
I can’t come to your little “coffee bitch session (support groups)” because it takes most my left over energy after caring for my son to just get a shower. If I came to your meeting unshowered, you’d call CPS on me. You offer “childcare” but you don’t care to hear our needs for childcare – you just assume I’m making excuses when I tell you your care isn’t suitable for my son. Because I won’t leave my son alone in a room full of strangers who couldn’t care less about his needs, I’m isolating him.
Besides, sitting in a room full of partnered parents with family and friends who support them whine about their pedantic selfish judgements isn’t my idea of fun. Neither is sitting in a room full of people bitching about governments, laws, and insurance coverage. I have a very small, finite amount of bandwidth aside from the full time hands on with my son, and I don’t care to waste it making you feel better about your life.
The only people who want to listen to me are those who get paid to do it.