That's what this whole thing has been.
See, if someone asks me for my opinion, I give it. I'm pretty straightforward like that. You ask, I answer. If you don't like my opinion, oh well. I'm secure enough to know that my opinion is just that - MINE - and you don't have to agree with it. I give other people enough credit to know that most of them care about their kids enough to do some research, and do what they feel will work.
I wasn't always this way, though. My, but I was an obnoxious twit. Thought I KNEW it ALL and anyone who didn't listen to me was just plain foolish. Or stupid. Or both. I would tell anyone who seemed to be having difficulty exactly what I knew that they needed to do. Was I an expert? Good Lord, no. I was just me.
Having a daughter with a problem, that's what's the eye opener. See, I know what she needs. I do. She needs therapy. But, it's amazing to me how many people think that they know better than me what she needs. They persist in telling me over and over. "What you've got planned, well, that's not what I'd do. See, this here's what I'd do, in your shoes." Only trouble is, that person isn't in my shoes. Really, even a mother of a child with the same exact diagnosis isn't in the same shoes I am. Maybe we are both wearing sandals, but hers have that funky strap between the toe thing that I hate, and mine are wedges.
The point is, give me enough credit to know what I need to do. And I haven't been asking for opinions lately. Bitching? Yup, guilty. Moaning and groaning? Right here. Complaining and crying "poor pitiful me", as my mother would say? Um, yeah.
But, people of America, STOP telling me what to do. STOP acting as if, by doing something OTHER than what you feel the situation warrants, I'm guilty of neglect. If you tell me what you think I should do, and I don't do it, isn't that a pretty clear message that I am not interested??
Never ever again am I going to tell people what I think they should do. Unless they ask. And maybe not even then.
I promise to stop whining now. Back to your regularly scheduled tales of life in the grocery lane with three carts.