I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before – but my three year old son, Oliver is weird.
This is at least partly due to something called SPD (sensory processing disorder) that causes him to engage in activities that “feed” his need for a lot of sensory input. His teacher explained this to me by saying, “remember that kid in your class who just couldn’t stay in his chair? The one who would fidget so much that he’d actually fall out of it sometimes?” Well yes actually – I do.
I remember several kids like that. They were the ones who ate paste in kindergarten, fell into the pond on the second grade field trip and consistently got in trouble for “touching people” in more or less every grade through middle school. And now, as it turns out, I’ve given birth to one.
Oliver also has very delayed speech, and adds a lot of jargoning (the official word for jibber jabber) to his special needs quirkiness. So yes – I have one very odd little duck as my first born. I have of yet to meet any almost four year old like him. And the truth is – I love him for every single bizarre behavior he throws my way.
I don’t just think he’s “special” – I think he’s FABULOUS. No one – and I mean no one – shows enthusiasm for preferred activities like Oliver. He doesn’t just hug you – he flings himself at you. He doesn’t just watch DVDs – he acts out the stories. He doesn’t just finger paint – he body paints. He doesn’t just say “please” – he proclaims PLEASE! He loves to be tickled and will beg you to keep going until even you can’t stand it anymore.
His exuberance makes me smile, then laugh, then cry from laughing so hard. And I think my heart might break when I worry about the people who won’t understand him or appreciate him. The people who will hurt him or bully him. Or make him feel any less than the very sweet little soul than he is. Because that will happen.
Instead of wasting my time on worries though, I prefer to plan for tomorrow, next week and next year. I work with his teacher on figuring out where this speech delay originates and strategize about how to correct it in the short and long term. We have more or less ruled out autism with a pediatric neurologist and are on to having his ultra-waxy ears cleaned out for a hearing test so that he can be assessed by a developmental pediatrician. As Miss Erin (or as Oliver calls her, “Miss Smerin”) likes to say, he is a bit of a puzzle. There seem to be several issues at play and all are fairly elusive…
But I really don’t spend too much time thinking about the problems and the boy that he was “supposed to be.” I’m far too busy enjoying the boy that he is. I recently spoke with a close childhood friend who has an autistic son and we agreed that not only is this better for them, it’s better for us. In describing her own son, she said, “every day, he makes us laugh. He’s just his own little person. While the other boys are in time outs for fighting over what to watch on TV, he’s busy figuring out the remote controls.”
This makes me happy just thinking about it – the fact that it’s okay like our kids for being different. Who got to decide that there is only one way to be anyway?
But the hard reality is that there is a standard for “normal.” That’s the reason that there is a special needs label. And it is our job to take our special needs children and try to teach them how to navigate a world that wasn’t set up with them in mind. It’s hard. And it’s scary. For all of us. But it’s not impossible.
I could so easily fall into despair over the “what ifs” associated with Oliver’s future – but what good does that do either of us? He deserves better than that. I’m the grownup and I set the tone for our house. If I am an emotional wreck over the things I can’t control, then everyone suffers for it. And at the end of the day, he’s not responsible for my feelings – but I am responsible for his.
So if he finds a ball of yarn entertaining, and wants to spend his quiet time unraveling it and then lashing all of the furniture together…fine. I’ll clean it up later (but only after he’s gone to bed since its disappearance could usher in “the end of the world”). If he wants to bring 12 straws to bed with him – or possibly all of the kid toothbrushes we own – who am I to judge? Perhaps this is soothing to him. Maybe he likes the way they feel in his hand – or just the fact that he can hold “all” of something in that one hand. He jargons reasons to me and I just say “fine.” I may do a little struggling first, but in the end, I let him decide. No one ever died from bringing straws to bed.
And every day I see progress – and his beautiful smile. And I know that it will be okay. Even though I understand that he’ll never be the easy going child that glides effortlessly through life. Or…maybe he eventually will. I’ll never know if I don’t do everything I can to help cultivate his self confidence. And his confidence in my own unwavering support.
My son is the greatest gift that I have ever been given. All of my children are. And I refuse to squander any of this fleeting time with them on anger or ingratitude.
I’m not a particularly religious person, but I consider each one of my children to be miraculous. And their current challenges and oddities just make them all the more unique and special. I need all of them as much as I need food and water. I need them to be safe and I need them to be happy. I need them to grow and laugh and love and know that there is nothing more important in this world to me than their existence. And if they have their own special needs – then I will meet them. I will be there from the time that they are unaware of these challenges to the time that their own personal demons emerge. I will always be there for them. Because in the end, I need them far more than they could ever need me.
*Oliver is starting Kindergarten on Tuesday, September 7th, and I’m devoting this and next week to posts I wrote about him and his special needs. It helps me to re-read these and see how far we’ve come. It gives me even more hope for the future and reminds me of why I’m so proud of my son. Worry about the future will always take a back seat to that feeling. I wrote this one in February 2009 and consider it the first of my “Special Needs” posts.
(((hug))) Kindergarten (or rather two years of kindergarten, one in a special needs class and the second in a regular class) did wonders for Maya. It's like they're finally at an age where it all starts coming together, where they can grow through and into and because of their quirks, rather than despite them. She starts first grade (the first year of "big school" here) on Wednesday and after all the fears of those dark years I can honestly say now that she's ready, more than ready, and dang excited too.
Oliver is going to soar this year. He's got great things in store, I'm sure of it.
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Stimey sent me; I'm glad she did! This post resonates SO much with me as I have my own special boy who just started kindergarten last week.
This line: "My son is the greatest gift that I have ever been given. … I refuse to squander any of this fleeting time with them on anger or ingratitude." I'm TOTALLY stealng it! Words to hold onto for dear life as we navigate the rocky road to his IEP.
Oh, this is so achingly beautiful.
Love this!!! Thank you for such a heartwarming post. =) Oliver is one lucky boy and you are one lucky lady. You know, your post reminds me a bit of the book "There's Something About Daniel" by Robyn Stecher The reminder isn't necessarily in the issues, but rather, in the appreciation that your child is a gift and viewing him as a miracle. Again, I love it!
Great post :) He's adorable :)
Oliver is very lucky to have a Special Mom who loves him so much!
You have a perfect, beautiful child, and he sounds just amazing to me. And you are blessed. It sucks, this 'standard' for normal, because what is that? In whose eyes, really? My 5 year old is also different than other children his age. He's an observer. He likes learning, he craves it. Rather than sit down with other boys his age to play dinosaurs, he wants the book, to study about them, to learn names, he wants to find fossils. He adapted well in JK, but he enjoyed helping his teacher more than playing with other kids, sometimes. Everyone, every child, is different. You're a great mother. Your son will thrive and he is exactly what he should be!
On the other hand, for me, my youngest, my 2.5 year old, cannot sit still at all. I just label him as a very active toddler!
This post is so achingly beautiful. I laughed and cried as if I had never read it before. I love you and Oliver so much. My heart will be with you both tomorrow.
Kate I can't remember how I found your blog, but I find it so refreshing. I'm a speech-language pathologist and I enjoy reading about Oliver, and hearing your parent perspective. Sometimes "us" professionals need to listen more and come from a parent point of view. I'm loving your theme this week. He's going to do great in K!
What a lovely post. Thank you for re-posting it.