A new school year

My little loves started a new school year. Both my boys are going to have big years. For SMILE, this is his first year of full-day school. For WINK, this is the year that school really becomes SCHOOL and his comfort zone is going to get stretched as he tries to keep up with his classmates. But they marched, undaunted, over to where their classes were lined up, book bags and lunchboxes in hand, hair spiked, and wrinkle free. DAD stayed home to see them off, of course, but also so he could stop me from sneaking into the school and camping out in front of SMILE's classroom door.

The drop off area was cluttered with smiling parents, many bending down for one more kiss. Cameras and camcorders were snapping and rolling everywhere I turned. To anyone looking on, my behavior was no different than the next gushing parent's.  Except I was praying that none of SMILE's classmates would care that he can't stop stimming or performing tics. I watched the other 6 year olds and I wanted to promise them candy, toys, ponies, cars, ANYTHING...if they'd just be nice to my boy and keep it up for the next nine months.  But I can't. 

I wanted to wire WINK so I could hear how his "friends" treat him in class. I want to be able to whisper prompts in his ear and tell him what to say in every situation.  But I can't.

DAD thinks I need to calm down. But I can't.

My little cave dwellers

SMILE's tantrums have dictated our family's outings for years. Even before his diagnosis, DAD and I have been planning trips around SMILE's unpredictable moods. But in light of his recent startling achievements, we decided to scratch something off of the "Can Never Do" list: We went to a crystal cave.

WINK was overjoyed.  He's my little science guy. But SMILE vetoed the idea as soon as he heard the word "cave."  Thankfully, our little guy was able to vocalize the problem with just a little prompting: bats.

"No, no, no. There are no bats," Dad said.
"And no bears," I added.

Oh. In that case...

The cave was dark in areas (we forgot a flashlight), narrow in spots (which made our tour group walk and stand real close at times), and cold. But it was also colorful and mysterious, with sensory input everywhere. SMILE peered up into "cave chimneys," stared into crevices to see stalagmites and stalactites (yes, he now knows the difference), and giggled at the hidden pictures in the rocks (the tour guide pointed out several formations that really did resemble animals).  There was a moment when I felt a twinge of panic, though.  The tour guide turned out all lights in our section so we could see certain rocks glow in black light.  SMILE ducked his head, rocked back and forth, and started babbling to himself.  I realized that, if he were to tantrum, I had no way of removing him from the group. But I calmly, squeezed his shoulders and said, "I'm right here with you, SMILE.  Mommy's right here" (I've found that doing away with pronouns helps him process when he's stressed).  A few minutes later, the lights came on and my beautiful boy lifted his head, unshaken and unharmed.

WINK ooh-ed and ah-ed more than anyone else on the tour. After the tour and a moderately expensive trip to the gift shop, we allowed the boys to pan for gems. WINK triumphantly held up what he called a diamond. It was a large shard of quartz. When I told him it was a crystal, he lit up brighter than the gem, and literally shook with amazement.

When the boys were each finished, I sent DAD back to the gift shop to buy another bag of dirt.  SMILE flipped out. Ooop. He expected to go after panning for gems and going back to do more was not in his plan.  So, I sat with my screaming son, happy for the high points, while my WINK panned his way through another bag.

{Shrug} What can you do? People are like those stones, I guess.  We all need a bit more polishing to wash away the dirt sometimes.

Sons over the horizon

I'm writing this from my bedroom. The boys are downstairs. Yep, you read it right. They are out of my line of sight and I don't hear any screaming, yelling, tattling, crashing, or any other sign of chaos. And I'm here writing, not scrambling, refereeing, dodging punches, punishing, or showing any sign of stress. I'm sitting like a pretzel on my cushy bed, blogging, and watching "Sex In The City" reruns. 

Sure, SMILE had a 25 minute tantrum last week because I missed a phone call (didn't see that coming). Yeah, he's developing two tics that lead me to believe that Tourettes may be a possibility (not uncommon for kids on the spectrum). But... we had a park play date that morphed into a five hour tour of our city (park, eat in fast food, friend's house) yesterday, and SMILE handled the changes in plan BEAUTIFULLY! And today...we took the plunge and had a play date with four friends at our house. Dangerous proposition, that, because it means sharing toys, sharing the Wii, coping with lots of noise, and all on his turf where he usually expects routine. SMILE came through like a little champion! 

And my WINK? He interacted and stayed engaged with his friends. True, he has more success when the other child is more demonstrative. Yes, today's play date (a raging success) was centered around video games, but my WINK shined today.  It was all I could do not to scoop him up and kiss his face off when he, several hours in to the play date,  piped up and asked if he could take his friend (the oldest of the four) downstairs to play. EEEEEKKK!  Sure, it was just two weeks ago that WINK hissed at a child he didn't like (I couldn't make this up if I tried), but today...WINK was awesome.

My little WINK and SMILE...

They are finally peeking through their issues and showing their real personalities. Back when this evaluation process started, I said there was something "off" about SMILE. I told my husband that I see my beautiful sweet boy when I look at him, but that it was like SMILE was living behind a veil. That veil will always be there, but he's getting in front of it.  Earlier in the week, WINK and I were talking about courageous people who decide to make a difference in the lives of others through acts of kindness. I asked him if he would want to do something like that. He said, "Maybe. But only if I could help SMILE, too, and kids like him."

Hmm...it's funny. I've loved my boys from the start of their lives. My respect for their struggles make me feel even more love for my little warriors. But...well..the other day, I watched WINK swim for the first time and SMILE was bobbing next to him, and I thought with the same certainty that has served me well in the past, "This is only the first time that my boys will surpass me."

I don't know what I ever did to deserve my little boys, but I'm going to keep on doing it.