But here I am and it's been a long time.
And Mini has changed in a thousand great ways. He started school on September 3rd. For most kiddos, starting school is no big deal. They are excited, even, for school to start. You go to the store, you buy some pencils, crayons, a backpack, couple t-shirts, couple pairs of socks, what have you. When you have a baby on the Autism Spectrum, going to school is MUCH more time consuming. They don't like new. They don't like change. They don't like different. Mini, my lovable, sweet, bike-riding, running wonder, does not like anything that involves walking away from Mommy. So, September 3rd was an ominous date for me. LOOMING. DARK.
Terrifying.
The week before school started, I drove to school from each therapy appointment, because that's how it would happen. The first day, he just cried and cried. The next day, I stopped for chicken nuggets and ice cream and was able to lure him onto the playground. He forgot about food and chose to swing, run, slide, climb. It was awesome. I bought three "back to school" books, and we read them, changing every main character's name to Mini's, and every teacher's name to his teacher's. We talked about how cool it all would be (well, I talked about how cool, he didn't). On Thursday, we went to a meet and greet at school, with his teachers and classmates. He went in screaming and crying, and did so for about 15 minutes. Then he calmed down but never left daddy's arms. Luckily, I was able to arrange our teacher's first home visit for the next morning. She came and we introduced her to Mini, allowed them to interact as much as he would, and I had the opportunity to tell her about who he is. All weekend, we continued to read our school books, talk about school, go to the playground. We talked about his teacher all the time.
Then it came- the first day. I held his hand as he walked in line with his new friends and teachers. Multiple times he said "I'm ok. I'm not crying." And I kept telling him how awesome that was and how proud we all were of him. When we got to the door and I let go of his hand, he whipped around as fast as superman and screamed "MOMMY COMES IN WITH YOU!!!" (which is his way of telling me to come in with him), but I couldn't so I left and he apparently stopped crying 20 minutes later and fully participated in class.
The second day, there was no crying. There has never been crying since the first day.
Mini teaches me so much about expectations. Before the first day of school, I decided that success would mean that the first day of school went off without tears. If I did enough, tried enough, worked hard enough, was creative enough, then I could prepare him perfectly and he wouldn't cry on the first day. When he cried on the first day, I thought I hadn't done it right. Crying meant failure. A friend said to me, later, when I told her about the first day and then the great days that followed... "Maybe you'd have had two weeks of crying if you hadn't done all that prep. Maybe one day of crying doesn't mean failure. Maybe that's just normal. You have no idea how things would have been, but you did everything you could think of, and all things considered, he did awesome. Congratulate yourself, Momma. He did great with your help."
And so that's it, right? My expectations of what success would look like were not met. They were met with DIFFERENT success. And I wasted a week beating myself up about it.
The biggest battle in my soul has always been balancing accountability and grace. I don't want to let myself off the hook when I fail. I know I can BE more, DO more, THINK more. I'm SMARTER than that, STRONGER than that, more RESILIENT than that. I constantly push myself in a failure- analyze it, prevent it in the future, don't let myself down again. I learned that from the best teacher- my mother- who is the strongest and most resilient person I know. She never let us off the hook growing up, and it is a lesson I thank for her nearly every day.
But in the last five years or so, I've learned that life's problems get pretty freaking big the older I get. Sometimes, it's just not possible to get things to the happy place at the time I expect and in the way I expect. Sometimes, I think it actually isn't my fault. The outcome isn't what I built, planned, worked for, but either a) that's ok and I need to let it go, or b) the road was beyond my control and I will try again, or c) the outcome is the same as or better than my expectation and even though the road was different the end point is the same and that's ok. All of those options require giving myself grace. And I suck at grace, you guys.
But I'm getting better at it. Mini is teaching me how grace works. Since school started,
* his language is exploding. He's talking to strangers, in actual, meaningful sentences. He doesn't hit or kick or tantrum when he's mad- almost ever. He uses words to ask for things, request change, get food, and even, sometimes, to explain feelings.
* he rides the BUS! He is so freaking proud of himself every day when he comes home on the bus. Just look at that guy:
* he is participating more significantly in his therapies. He loves going every day to see Miss Kristen or Miss Allison and I'm getting AMAZING reports at the end of his sessions about all the work they are doing.
* I've learned that none of his teachers and therapists have concerns about his attention span. No ADHD for buddy! Yay!
* Yesterday, at therapy, he was used to MODEL typical behavior for a friend! My BUDDY! WAS A MODEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is SO HUGE!
He's been in speech therapy for six months, in ABA therapy for four months, and in school for one month. He's in a therapeutic environment now for a total of 23 hours a week. And I can tell you that our home, our son, and even, yes, WE, are better. Everything feels more peaceful. We understand our son better. We communicate with him in ways he understands and responds to. We help others understand and communicate with him more effectively. We laugh. We talk. We have fun. We share. We learn.
The change is overwhelming and remarkable and incredible.
It was painful getting here. And he cried a lot. And I cried a lot. And most of the time, I felt like I was failing because my expectations weren't matching reality.
But, undeniably, he is PROGRESSING. He's growing!
So I need to grow too. I need to learn more about the line between accountability and grace. So that I can fall more softly, get up more quickly, and celebrate more fully. Sounds like a lesson we could all learn.
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