Like a Butterfly

Have you ever caught a butterfly in your hands?  You slightly open your hands just a crack to let the sunlight in and you admire the beautiful colors of this amazing flying insect.  It is so hard to open your hands all the way and let it fly, but that butterfly is starting to tickle.  You know it wants to fly.  You let it go and watch it fly into the sky through beams of sunlight.

I have two beautiful butterflies of my own that had to take a little flight of their own last week.  Trust me, I am no where near letting them journey into the sunset, but they did need to “spread their wings” a little this week.

My youngest, TL, started a center-based program for autistic children on top of his home-based program.  He stays at the center for 2 hours on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.  It is very—almost eerily—similar to the program my oldest was in 8 years ago.  There is even a two-way mirror, so parents can observe their children.

But, I don’t stay and watch.  I did that with my oldest.  I sat in a small, airless room with other moms and watched as TJ played, fought, progressed, and regressed.  I wouldn’t trade any of that time, but I know now that the biggest indicator of his progress is how he does outside of the classroom. 

Sure, he can sit in his chair at circle time, but can he sit at home to get his shoes on?  Sure, he can play nicely with a kid in his class, but how will he do with the new boy at the playground?  Those milestones happen outside of the school, when he makes the connections between school and “real life.”

I have changed things with TL, not because I felt we did anything wrong, but because he is a different child and his “flight pattern” is different, as well. 

Now, TJ’s flight this week was quite exciting.  He got the opportunity to present at a student-to-student conference for gifted children.  The conference was at a major college campus, which added to the excitement –and the pressure.

TJ did his presentation on Garfield—the cat, not the president (I don’t know why I feel the need to clarify that!).  He had done a presentation last year on a different topic, but this year I felt like I didn’t hover as much.  I let him take the lead.  I had to have confidence he could handle the audience.  I had to let him fail if need be.  I had to let him fly.

And fly he did!  He did great with his presentation and had a fantastic time.  My two butterflies spread their wings this week and fluttered around in the sky.  They have earned their flights and have proven they are ready for more time out of my hands.  The question is, am I?

The Celebrated First Debate

They always say you are not truly married until you have your first argument, but what about that first argument with your child?  Most people think of when their child yelled “no” in the middle of the store and collapsed into a tantrum.  I am talking about that first debate, where they let you know they want something different.  I had that the other day with my youngest, TL.

This morning, when I was still groggy, he came up and said “Sweetie,” trying to wake me up.  Now, this is what my husband affectionately calls me, so I knew where he was getting it.  A little while later, he was in his highchair eating breakfast and I decided to make sure he knew to call me “Mama.”  So, I said, “I’m Mama, not Sweetie, okay?”  He replied, “No!  Sweetie!”  I countered with, “No.  Mama!”  We went on for many rounds—and cracked up the whole time.  Meanwhile, my husband and I kept giving each other looks of amazement; we couldn’t believe he was doing this.  There was no echoing, no rehearsed sayings—this was all spontaneous and appropriate!

I know the laughing will probably come to bite me in the behind in a couple years, when the cute debating turns to annoying whining, but it is worth it.  I celebrate the small things, because for my boys there is nothing small.  They work for everything they do and deserve to be praised for it.  But most of all, I praise God for giving me the opportunity to raise these terrific little men.

When a Chair is More Than Just a Chair

The other morning, I had the pleasure of watching my sons make up a game with 2 kitchen chairs.  Sounds pretty mundane, but for me it was thrilling.  With the eight-year age gap, there is still a difference in how much TL understands about the games, but he was definitely a willing participant.

They charged at each other like chair bumper cars, in a game that TJ called “Trojan War.”  They laid the chairs down and made a fort.  They turned those chairs into so many things and had the best time. This session of make believe is so common in most houses, but not mine.  It made my morning seem brighter and more hopeful.

There have been quite a few times this week where I could actually forget my sons were autistic.  When TL was having a therapy session recently, it seemed like he was just a little boy playing with a teacher.  I didn’t see the struggles and behaviors that usually make it painful to watch. 

These little glimpses of normalcy are probably what keep me sane.  I can’t survive in autism mode 24/7.  Not only do I need to see my kids being normal, but they need to feel that way sometimes too.  There is nothing wrong with being different, but there is something difficult about feeling different all the time. 

All I know is that I will take these moments as they come and cherish my sons as the blessings from God that they are.