on my own

After a few months of new normal, we finally hit our stride last fall and as the lone parent I got a lot more time with things 1 and 2.  With that I started to spot differences and concerns and was able to act without question or compromise.  Partnering with just the kiddos' trusted therapist, Asperger's Syndrome was identified.  As I read through characteristics of AS, a reel of memories flooded through with light bulbs clicking rapidly in my mind.  It made sense to me and I could move forward on my mom instincts for what I believed to be best for my kid, without debate or discussion. 

Obtaining the diagnosis for the Aspie was no doubt easier on my own.  I knew I was right and I didn't have to argue or explain it.  Looking back, I felt awful for how we misunderstood and could have done better by him.  I can learn and adjust, meeting Thing 1 were he's at and needs me to be, but Mr. 1inamillion never would.  I'm still haunted by "look at me when I'm talking to you boy" as Thing 1 covered his face and completely folded into himself.  Those with Asperger's struggle with eye contact, it's a sensory overload that many describe as truly painful. 

I remember talking it through with my therapist.  "So you're feeling guilty.  Wondering how you could have missed it for so long?"  My split-second response?  Oh no, I know exactly how I missed it.  I was driving back and forth to St. Louis all the damn time, bouncing my kids all over the damn place.  Huh.  I guess I'm just pissed off about it.  Yes, this was an instance made easier by now being a single parent.

Our schedule with just the healthy three of us allows for a lot more fun.  The calendar stayed full with church, gymnastics, basketball and hockey games.  This summer, we've bounced freely from the pool, water park, tumbling and ice skating lessons.  And there in lies my first really big frustration with being on my own. 

Thing 2 lost balance on the hockey skates in last night's lesson, fell face first on the ice and earned a big gash to the chin.  The diva does not handle the sight of her own blood without hysterics, and the fear of stitches took her freak out to a whole new level.  It took a lot of coaxing to get her calmed down so the EMT on site could take a look and bandage her up.  After a lot more coaxing, she was finally willing to go let some of 'Daddy's nurses' take a look at it and we headed to the ER where she was determined to not get stitches.  The doctor came in, squeezed the wide open wound which sort of just pushed it inside out, and said "yep, it needs stitches".  Diva began to wail and throw herself around the bed in an effort to make a run for it and this mom began to wrestle.  With my left arm across her arms & chest and my right arm around her knees, I laid across my screaming baby whose chin was being sewn shut and silently cussed the man who knocked me up then died.

This was an instance were teamwork was certainly preferred.  The boy not wanting to hang out in the ER but forced to stay with his one & only parental unit, the terrified girl screaming and in pain....the evening definitely would have gone better with more than just me.  I've never been great at coddling them through a situation such as this.  My way of 'suck it up, think of something else and just get it over with' is not preferred.  I know this, so I do try, but Mr. 1inamillion was better at this kind of thing (I was always kinda the dude). 

I can be honest in my look through the rear view and know that I would have received heavy loads of blame and BS for the broken kid after the fact and without end...but in the actual moment, the kids certainly could have benefited by the presence of their dad and another set of hands would have been appreciated.  I also realize that after the stress of holding it together while your baby is being traumatized, it probably would be nice to have someone to turn to, let out a "damn, that sucked" and at the very least get a hug.