Wanted: Horse Tranquilizers

Three big challenges face us.  Dylan starting kindergarten.  Daughter starting middle school.  And my oldest going off to college.  I am a wreck already and it's only June.  Is there a 12 step program for this?  Because I need one.

First off, Dylan.  After his diagnosis, all the books on autism interventions seemed to agree that most neural connections in the brain happen before the age of 5.  Five was our magic number.  I totally bought into that and went gung-ho into the home program so we could take advantage of this "window of opportunity".  Now that it has passed with his fifth birthday a few weeks ago, I've decided it's all BS.  The scientific community is often wrong, after all.  They thought asbestos was harmless.  And mercury in vaccinations.  And that the earth was flat.  For awhile, the "advanced" research told doctors to perform lobotomies and electric shock therapy.  Ever hear of spontaneous generation?  So anyway.  I've decided not to ascribe to this "window of opportunity" thing any more.  I'm his mom, after all.  So I'll hold onto hope.   Screw the window.

Still, kindergarten terrifies me.  So far, Dylan doesn't know that he's different.  But those days are numbered.  And I hate that.  Someday soon, he will realize.  He will deal with rejection and frustration over not fitting in.  In the past, I haven't been all that level-headed when it comes to my kids getting picked on.  I use to volunteer in the school library when my oldest was in kinder, just so I could spy on him at recess and be sure he was okay.  I've even called mothers of bullies on the phone.  And knocked on their doors.  Yes, doors - plural.  As in more than one.  So it may take a horse tranquilizer to keep me calm if it happens to Dylan.  When it happens to Dylan.  I really don't know why God made me so intense and then gave me these huge challenges.  I swear I'm going to have a stroke just thinking about it.

Then there's my daughter.  I'm trying to bribe her into wanting to be homeschooled.  I know, good parenting, right?  It's not working anyway.  I told her she could dye her hair pink if she was homeschooled.  She's been wanting pink hair.  Long story, but her wanting pink hair is kinda my fault.  I talk to my kids a lot about the beauty of being a non-conformist.  How wrong and often dangerous it is to follow the herd as if they are a bunch of mindless cattle.  Somehow this "enlightened" talk I had with them recently took a turn for the worse when one of my boys announced he wanted a mohawk, and my daughter said she wanted pink hair.  Um, okay.  Can we back up a minute?  What.  Just.  Happened?

Here's my daughter on her first day of preschool.  That was like two weeks ago, I think.

So anyway, with my best efforts of bribery failing, middle school looms on the horizon.  How exactly does a mother survive this, can anyone tell me?  The other day, my husband was talking to his friend who is a substitute teacher about the fact that his daughter is starting middle school.  His friend said he refuses to sub for middle school.  He'll do elementary or high school, but he'd rather starve than sub for middle school.  He says middle school kids are the meanest.  Puberty and hormones and bullies and...oh, Lord.  There goes my blood pressure again.  

My poor husband is the one who has to suffer the most, because he has to deal with his babies going through these milestones...and he has to deal with me dealing with my babies going through all these milestones.  Thank God he is a saint.  He'd have to be to be married to me at this point.

And finally, there's my oldest son going off to College.  In all the world there is no better person than this young man.

We've promised him a car when he goes off to college.  Not a new one, but dependable because his school is 5 hours away.  Today out of the blue he said to me, "Mom, I don't really need a car.  I have my bike, and the college has busses that go everywhere.  Just keep doing therapy for Dylan.  He needs that, but I don't need a car at all."

I was so overwhelmed with his gesture that I just started crying.  I know that when I was 18 if someone had promised me a car, there would be heck to pay if I didn't get it.  But this young man.  Out of the blue.  Says forget the car.  I don't need it.  I know he loves his brother, but at this young age to be so compassionate.  It just amazes me.

Later when I told my husband what Caleb said, he teared up and said, "That just makes me want to get him a car even more".  Yes. I think now come heck or high water, that child is getting a car.

 
Here's Caleb and his little brother.

And here's Caleb as a baby.  That was like two months ago, I think.

And now I only have him for a few more weeks.  So many woulda-coulda-shoulda's are going through my head when I think about his childhood.  I wish I would have been better at everything for him.  But this kid was birthed by a 21 year old girl who had a lot of growing up to do.  And being the firstborn, he was my guinea pig child.  We trial and errored our way through this one.  But somehow he emerged as a strong, smart and compassionate man.  Must be God because it certainly wasn't me.

So what's the moral of this story?  I dunno, it's 1:30 in the morning.  Does there have to be a moral?  Something about pink hair and horse tranquilizers, mohawks and guinea pigs.  And a 12 step program.