Sometimes we worry we're just whiners, that raising Quinn is no harder than raising any other kid. But in the past week, our whining has been validated.
First, we got told by our Regional Center social worker that we likely qualify for respite care, more than the minimum amount. This determination was based on an email I sent her in which I described some of Quinn's more challenging behaviors, and the email wasn't that long and I took care not to exaggerate.
Then, on inauguration day, we attended a wonderful breakfast at our church with Quinn and Zac's mother. Quinn had three loving adults looking after him, but we all had to work pretty hard to keep the tantrums at bay and prevent mishaps with, well, everything, from hot cups of coffee to furniture-turned-jungle-gym to other people's belongings. And we had plenty of books and toys for him, but nothing was sufficiently calming or engrossing, so the three of us took turns walking him around in the stroller (missing parts of the ceremony) or letting him play in the entrance area of the church, where there is a fountain he attempts to hurl himself into, an activity he enjoys enormously. Meanwhile, many other children, both younger and older than Quinn, sat quietly in their parents' laps watching the ceremony, or occasionally needed some walking around the room, but in a relatively quiet, safe, and organized fashion.
None of this is to say that Quinn is not delighful, magical, and the apple of our eye. We love him like crazy. But he is indeed a lot of work.