My Sweet Boy, Mama is Happy

My Sweet Boy,

Last night we went for a walk around the neighborhood. It was supposed to be me, you, your two brothers and Dad. A family walk. But, well, it didn’t go as planned.

But what does these days I guess. If autism and a global pandemic has taught us one thing it’s…’hold on.’

I wouldn’t say it’s been all bad though. I would even dare to say that our family has gotten stronger through all of this. Spending 24 hours a day together for eternity will do that.

Back to the walk. It ended up being just me and you. Which is fine. Sometimes it’s easier that way. And I like it. I enjoy it being just me and you sometimes.

So often your other brothers overshadow you with their talking. You stay silent. I see that Cooper. I am sure it’s hard to get a word in.

You and I have went on a walk in some form or fashion daily for weeks. Rain or shine. Snow or wind. We get outside even if it’s just for a few minutes. It’s our thing. It’s my goal for us.

Some days you are willing. Some days you act as if you have cement blocks tied to your shoes.

Some days you grab your own shoes and jacket and wait in the driveway. Some days you act as you have never walked through our neighborhood before.

Kid, you keep me on my toes. You and I have literally never had a dull moment. So, if I can make one simple, tiny, teeny, request, maybe we could have just one dull moment. Try it out for size? Might be fine?

No? Well, keep it in the back of your mind please.

Anyhow, mom made a mistake a while back. She thought she was doing something good. But it backfired.

See, walking to our neighbor’s house to get a few sheets of your favorite brightly colored construction paper seemed like a really good incentive at the time and got you walking and smiling and moving. Because you love, love paper.

But. And it’s a big but, now you think EVERY house in our neighborhood has paper for you. And out of the blue, thin air, nowhere, you’ll take off running up a driveway, ring a doorbell and press your face against the glass of their door.

Kid, mama can handle a lot with grace and a giggle but you are giving me a run for my money. It’s tiring running up and down driveways. It’s tiring negotiating you to keep moving when you sit down on their porch.

Most people are kind around here. Most people understand. It’s Kate and Cooper and they are practicing walking. They get it.

But, wow.

Last night, was no different. You ran up to different houses as we moved along. I alternated between waiting, chasing, smiling, cursing under my breath, sweating and motivating.

I smiled and waved to people when needed. I kept you out of one neighbor’s garage. I prompted you along.

I reminded myself this is practice and that this will pay off. Someday when you are 20, you and I will be walking all over. Because we are going to travel around and your Dad and I are going to show you the world. BUT, we have to get you walking.

After a few houses, you were done. We had only went a block or so but it must have felt like an eternity to you so you did the one tactic you have in your arsenal…you laid down in protest in the middle of the sidewalk.

I call it flopping.

Arms out. Legs out. Almost as if you were making a snow angel in the imaginary snow. Your body seems to turn to jello. I would never admit it, but it’s sorta impressive how you can go limp like that in an instant.

This isn’t a new thing kid. We’ve been doing this dance for 9 years together. You lie down in streets, parking lots, stores, waiting rooms. You name a place, you have probably lied down there before. I’m used to it. We are working through it. But, some days mom is tired. You must know that.

I reached in cautiously to see how serious you were about your protest. Your legs came flying at me, thankfully not making contact with my shins. I jumped back quickly.

You were serious. We were doing this. Right here.

So, I backed up a few feet, and waited.

I’m so used to waiting. That’s what I do. I wait.

Suddenly, something caught my eye. A little girl dressed in pink riding by on her tricycle. Her dad had her move to the street so she could avoid you. She stared at you. And me. Her dad averted his eyes like most adults do.

I smiled. Mommy always smiles.

I looked to my right. Families in their driveways. One was running alongside his son, teaching him to ride his bike. That kid was on training wheels yesterday. They were having so much fun. I heard that little boys words. He was way younger than you. Closer to your baby brother’s age. Talking.

As they passed us they stared. You were stomping your feet at this point. Really, really loudly.

I looked the other way.

To my left, three boys playing basketball. Brothers. I know their family. They are 12, 10 and 8.

Bounce, bounce, bounce. Laughter. Teasing.

Your screaming brought me back and caught their attention too.

The three boys, your peers, stopped and stared.

I felt it kid. The sting. I felt the little girl with the streamers on her trike riding her bike. I felt the dad running alongside his son’s bike. And I felt those three boys doing something so simple and natural.

It all looked so effortless. So natural.

And I felt us. I felt bad bud. I just don’t understand sometimes. Why does it have to all be so hard. I would literally do anything to make your life and our life easier.

Let me help you. Tell me what to do.

I pushed back the tears and smiled at you.

You smiled back. There you were. My boy. You were back. You were done. Just like that.

I reached my hand out. You grabbed it. I pulled you up. And you gave me the hugest hug. You needed it.

I whispered in your ear how much I loved you.

And we walked, hand in hand, by those three brothers shooting hoops. They were still staring. Which is fine. They weren’t being mean. Just curious I suppose. Wondering why the 9 year old boy was lying on the ground like that and screaming.

We kept walking, hand in hand.

You pointed to an airplane and a mud pile and a neighbor’s trampoline.

I love when you do that. We talked about everything, you and I. It’s our time. And then I did something I have never done before. I asked you if you wanted to sing a song.

You grunted ‘yes.’

I thought of all the songs I have sang to you over the years. And what ones you could maybe sing with me.

You have no words bud. But they are in there. I know they are.

I said ABC’s?

You grunted ‘yes.’

And we sang the song together. For the first time my sweet boy, you sang with me. You made a sound for every single letter. Some sounded right like H and M. The rest were just sounds. But oh my gosh you were singing it. I pictured the ABC’s running through your head on a loop.

You could see them. You reached up and plucked each one and smiled as the sound left your lips.

It was one of the best moments of my life kid. When mommy is old and gray, she will remember that moment.

Thank you. Thank you for sharing it with me. I needed it more than I could ever tell you.

My son, I am so happy that you are mine. We have hard and sad. Everybody does. But you and I, we have so much happy too.

Tomorrow we will go for a walk. It will probably be a repeat of today. And that’s okay.

I will never stop trying my sweet boy.

And know this, I will give you grace to learn and to figure it all out. I’ll never give up.

Just please don’t give up on us.

Love, mama

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