Wednesday, 13 May 2009
someone did, an amazing relief.
But, there are still days, brightly colored with guilt days, where I wish for a quick fix or a cure. The days I allow myself to consider for even a moment how harsh and mean and downright evil the world and people can be when you are "normal", must less different. The days I spend too much time trying to teach him how going on and on about his favorite topic (which happens to be in-depth scientific analysis of Saturn’s rings) might bore someone and how it's polite to stop and listen sometimes (although if this an Aspie makes, I could name at least 20 off the top of my head). Until he's confused and I've confused myself and we’re both frustrated.
I forget to have faith in him as he is. Like his birthday this year, he tells me he's invited 12 people. I try to convince him to do something small with his best friends; the ones I know will come. He won't give. "I've already told them, Mama. We're gonna have Guitar Hero battles and eat until we vomit. I think it's going to be the best party ever. You worry too much about everything, Mama." I'm sure he's right, at least about that.
So, I buy the invitations (two packs) and watch him fill out each one, using his best writing. I count on 4, maybe 5 guests but he insists every single one will come. I pray he's right, just this once, I can't stand watching the disappointment on his face and knowing I can't fix it.
"I'll need drinks. Rootbeer, Dr.Pepper and Sprite." He tells me, the weekend before the big soiree. "And those hot Cheetos, some Lays, maybe some Doritos. Pizza, lots of pizza, kids love pizza, Mama. And a Guitar Hero cake."
I get stuck on the cake. Calling every place in town. He rarely asks for anything and I'm determined to make this happen and make it perfect. But all they have are the square ones. They inform me they can draw on a guitar with icing and write Guitar Hero across the top but I want a guitar shaped cake. I know that's what he has in his head too.
So, I search online for some creative baker to copy and head to the store for supplies, vowing to make one myself. And I do and it turns out better than I ever dreamed and I become the best Mama EVER, at least in that moment...five minutes before official party time and no guests yet present.
And then it happens, they start trickling in and the house is full of preteens (every single invitee plus one).
The Guitar Hero up so loud (in surround sound) the house is dancing from the outside. They are eating themselves sick like happy, little locusts and appear to be having fun. I forget myself in the joyful relief of it and find myself dancing and singing to Hit Me With Your Best Shot, much to my child's utter and complete humiliation.
"Your mom's cool," I hear one of them tell him.
"Uh huh," he mutters back, apparently forgetting just how amazing I am. And he's pushing my dancing, singing and joyful self out of the living room. Easy enough considering he's only one-inch and ten pounds smaller.
Looking at him from the kitchen, he hasn't changed much. Maybe it's just how things worked out, meeting these kids who just accept him for who he is. The girl who hangs on his every word and laughs at his jokes that I don't get. The one who should be named Ms. Calls Every Two Seconds. Or the girl on our computer who has been batting her eyelashes at him all afternoon and is trying to change his screensaver to something proclaiming his undying love for her.
I whisper to him later that he has another admirer and he looks at me like I’m the most clueless parent in the world. “You think, Mama?” And I have to laugh at how suave and worldly he seems to consider himself, despite my silly worries.
He’s kind and sweet beyond words and his friends don’t seem to care if he rambles on about the amazing properties of Saturn’s rings for hours on end while they attempt to conquer Through the Fire and Flames on Expert for the 900th time in a row.
He’s managed to find himself a little nook where he fits in just fine. He may never be the coolest, the most athletic but he’s all these other amazing things that I appreciate and love so much more. And he’s happy, that’s all that really matters...isn’t it?
And on a side note, he got the lead role in his school play. :)