I've been faking it.

No, not that.  :)  Something else.  I have been worrying.  I never worry.  I just don’t see a point to it.  It’s wasted energy.  It doesn’t solve anything.  I can’t predict the future.  So why worry about it?  When Alex was first diagnosed with Autism two and a half years ago, I didn’t worry about his future but my husband did.  What was Alex going to be like when he’s an adult?  Will he be able to live on his own?  Will he live with us?  Will he be able to go to college?  Drive a car?  Have a job?  Be in a relationship?  Get married?  Will he be able to have what he defined as a happy life?  My husband learned to let go his “idea” of a happy life for Alex.  He doesn’t need to do all those things to be happy.  We both know that.  So I don’t worry about what is in store for Alex in the future.  My philosophy from the beginning was always:  do absolutely everything we possibly can do NOW so that whatever is in his future will be the best it possibly can be.  So that’s how I roll.  I live in the moment.  Take it day by day.  Do the best I can.

But for the last few weeks, I have been pretending.  I secretly have been worrying.  I haven’t slept well in about 2 or 3 weeks.  We have a huge transition coming up in our family.  Alex and Will (twins) will be going into kindergarten tomorrow, but in two separate schools.  Will is going to be with his big brother, who will be in second grade.  Alex is going to another school because they offer a special needs program that we feel is best for him and is not available at the other school.  I don’t worry about Will at all.  He’s going to a school that he’s already familiar with, he knows the teacher, and he has 2 of his best friends in his class with him.  And to boot, his big brother, Harrison, will be in the school, too.  But Alex is going to a brand new school, completely unfamiliar to him.  We’ve prepped him as much as possible.  We had a few playdates at the school, at the playground.  So he’s familiar with the place.  We took him to the school last week to meet his program supervisor, his intervention specialist, his speech therapist and his teacher.  He got to see his classroom twice.  Thank goodness he has a friend from one of his preschools who will also be in his class.  (Alex calls him his best friend.)  :)  So I’m grateful he won’t be alone.  But I still worry what the first day (week, month) will be like for him.  He’s going to be in a mainstream, typically developing kindergarten class.  There will be a total of 27 kids.  (His previous schools have had 8 or 12 kids in his class, with at least 3 teachers.  At the preschool co-op, there was a max of 22 kids and I was a working parent on those 2 days he attended, and his brother Will was there, too.  And there were 2 teachers and 6 working parents on each day.)  He will have his intervention specialist with him and his friend pretty much the entire time he’s in class.  And of course, the one teacher will be there.  And I was able to arrange for his ABA therapists to assist him in school 3 hours a week, divided into 2 sessions, to help him transition between activities, and to help him socialize with his peers.  We’ve talked about the “exciting” new school a bit, but not too much.  I didn’t want to make him anxious.  We went to the store and had him pick out a new shirt to wear on the first day of school.  Of course, he has a new “Angry  Birds” backpack and lunch box.  :)  So I feel like I’ve done everything I could in the “now” moment.   I know it.  I feel confident that I did my best and gave him my all.  Now, I need to let it go.  I just have to stop worrying and remember what I believe in my mind and in my heart. ……my philosophy:  do absolutely everything I possibly can do NOW so that whatever is in his future will be the best it possibly can be.  So in 8 hours, when he walks into his new classroom, it’s going to be the best it can possibly be for him.  And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to stop faking that I’m not worried, because I truly won’t be. 

Where did my maternal heart go today?

Today, June 7, 2012, was a huge day for our family.  The twins, Alex and Will “graduated” from their preschool today.  (Actually, Alex still had his special needs school to graduate from tomorrow.)  But this preschool is a co-op where my older son, Harrison, attended for 2 years.  The twins just finished their second, and final, year.  So I spent the last 4 years there.  And for the last 3 years, I was a board member.  The preschool is called Sequoia and it is truly a wonderful place!  We’ve made great friends and we all have learned so much there! 

So you would think that today, as the twins accepted their certificates, that I would be crying my eyes out.  After all, they are growing up!  Because of my older son, I know what elementary school is like and it is very different from preschool, especially a co-op preschool, where parents are very involved in the school.  These past years have been so incredibly special.  I got to work (unpaid because it’s a co-op) at the preschool twice a week, along with 5 other parents and 2 teachers every day (I had to work twice a week because I had 2 kids that attended.)  I got to see Alex and Will grow!  Not just educationally, but socially, too.  I felt like I was really involved with their lives.  I’m so lucky that I don’t have to work and that I was able to spend this time with them.  I got to share so many experiences with my little guys!  What blessings! 

But I didn’t shed one tear.  I’m saddened to leave the school.  But I have spent the last (almost) 7 years as a stay at home mom.  And when Alex was diagnosed with Autism 2 years ago, my life just got super busy, juggling 3 kids at 3 different schools.  Having a child with special needs and juggling several weekly therapy appointments.  And then, of course, I have the usual things to take care of (cleaning, cooking, paying bills, etc.)  I’m just tired and I really, really, really need a break.   And when the twins start kindergarten and Harrison starts second grade at the end of August, I’ll finally get a break!  And I think that’s why I didn’t cry today.  My maternal heart sees light at the end of the tunnel.  And I love my boys more than anything in the world and would give up my life for them.  But today, I’m not going to miss those special preschool moments.  Not now.  But after I’ve had a break, and things get busy with elementary schools, my maternal heart will come back full force and I will miss them dearly.  At least, I think I will.  :)

Today I am Veruca Salt

Today I am Veruca Salt.  I want it all.  I want it now.  I want life to be perfect.  But a perfect life doesn’t include millions of dollars, a big house, a housekeeper, a cook, a chauffeur, a full time masseuse.  For me, life would be perfect if my son didn’t have autism.  Once a year, usually around the time of his IEP, I get sad, seeing that word all over pages and pages.  But he hasn’t had his IEP yet.  I am filling out the school forms for Alex to start kindergarten in the fall.  I’ve only written the word down a few times.  But what is making me cry is that he isn’t going to get to go to school with his twin brother, or with his big brother.  Alex needs to go to another school that has a special needs program.  For the past two years, he has been attending a separate school from his twin brother, Will.  But they also share a school, too.  Will attends a preschool 5 days a week and Alex attends the same school twice a week, one of those days he is shadowed by his social and behavioral therapist.  So for the last two years, he’s been with one of his brothers at school.  But this fall, Will, and their big brother, Harrison, will be together.  And for the first time, Alex will be alone.  It just breaks my heart.  I tried to work things out with the schools.  I tried to figure out a way to get them all in one school.  But I had to look at each of their individual needs and in the end, this is just what is best for them.  I know that tomorrow, I will be smiling again, and I will be so extremely grateful for all that I have.  But for today, I’m going to wish for something I can’t get.  And then for the rest of the year, I’ll remember all the hundreds of wishes I did get.