Yesterday, I made a stupid mistake. I was already emotional and battling through some stuff personally and here at home, so I knew better, but sometimes I get in a situation where I can't help but look. And looking is dangerous. I read a story about a family with two sons with autism. The boys are adults, they still live at home and they won't ever be able to care for themselves. I was okay until the article said "I try to never think past dinner." Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Our first inclination as parents is to plan for the future lives for our children, to talk about college and weddings and babies, even before we've moved them out of the house. For plenty of parents it never works out the way they planned it, and that is a tough cookie to swallow, all by itself, but I realize that I am now in the category of people who won't dream those dreams for at least one of my children. That is not to say that I am resigned that L will live here until we die, but I know for certain, that even when joking about his charm and looks that I am, deep down, cautioning myself not to get my hopes up. Which is kinda crappy. Or rather, extremely crappy.
But there is another side, a lighter side, if you will, of being in this position. I don't have to stress about things like "will he take high school seriously and not make the mistakes that I made and will he love God and go to college and explore the world and marry a girl I like and will she let me plan some of the wedding and will he still love me when he's a teenager and will he talk bad about me in therapy and will I be a good grandmother to his children and will he have a good job and so on and so on and so on." I won't encourage you to analyze the questions you have about your children's future- it is time consuming and frankly, kind of boring from my side of the fence, just know that I know that you worry and fret and pray and seek on behalf of your children and that is amazing and wonderful and special. I, though, am not going to put much effort into these flights of fancy, not because they won't come true ever, because, who knows, they might, but rather, because it is a waste of my time to worry about these things when there is no promise whether L is autistic or typical.
That's right typical parents- your kids could stay home forever too. There is no promise, despite our best efforts and heartfelt parenting strategies, that our kids will ever be self sufficient. And, this time, it doesn't necessarily have to do with crappy parenting or poor values (although, face it, it does play a part, sometimes). Your kid may just be lazy. Your kid may just decide that whining and crying and freaking out will make life easier than actually doing the work. And, dollars to donuts, they know EXACTLY how to break your will so you step in the solve the problem.
I am not laughing at your situation, I am in the same one, though mine has less uncertainty (with one of my kids- the other 3- totally up for grabs). I'm simply pointing out the fact that, for once, we are on the same playground. This is probably the first time ever I have WANTED to comfort the parent of a typically developing cookie cutter kid. I am not being mean- it's just hard to do when I am in my own head. I am a big fan of "whatever your emotion is you are allowed to have it, despite the circumstances others find themselves in." It's a long drawn out way of saying "it's my party and I'll cry if I want to."
My point? I guess it is to realize that I can stop feeling sad about "losing something" that no one has anyway. Promise of a future. None of us have it.
To end the post, I'll give you some more insight into my life.
Conversation with M:
I was in the bathroom cleaning myself up after having spent 20 minutes sobbing because my emotions are CRAZY right now (I am not pregnant) and M comes in.
M: What are you doing?
Me: Having a moment...
M: Why is your face all red like that?
Me: It was a tough moment.
M: Did you need to go to the bathroom and it was really hard?
Yep.
-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"
No comments:
Post a Comment