I was going to get all of our stuff ready for The Boy's swim meet tomorrow. I was going to fold the laundry that's been sitting in the dryer since last night. I was going to soak the polish off of my fingernails (aah, my love of of fabulously manicured nails ~~ another time, friends...another time).
Instead, I've spent the evening watching my children play the Wii & giggle up a storm. I've been absorbing them. I tried to give hugs & kisses, but was turned away. It's okay, though. They were getting along, which is a rarity in our house. Remember: The Boy & The Girl are only 16 months apart, then The Little Boy is 3 (for a little while longer anyway).
I was going to work on my awesome wall calendar. It's the giant color coded calendar that reminds us of appointments, play dates, swim team practice, Daisy meetings, marathon training miles, & anything else that my brain would otherwise forget. Not tonight. It can wait.
My mind was on the meeting at the psychologist's office this morning. It was this morning where we learned that there is an answer for The Boy. There is hope. He has a diagnosis. Let me ask you this: if I tell you his diagnosis, will you look at him differently? Would you still give him a chance? Will you mock him? Will you tease him because he needs help so that he can learn to focus, to control his emotions when he is frustrated, or to redirect from a subject that he just can't let go of? Will you see his awesome smile? Will you enjoy his silly sense of humor? Will you appreciate his brain (he is smarter than you know)? Will you remember that he is just a little boy of 8 years old?
If I tell you his diagnosis, & you you tell me, "that's funny he doesn't LOOK like he has Aspergers", I am going to tell you, "well that's because we part his hair on the left instead of the right". (Yeah, there is no "look" for so many diagnosis' out there, so I will be a smarty bucket if you choose to not educate yourself before you open your mouth ~~ this isn't a new feeling I have;ask me & I'll tell you about the wonderful world of acceptance that my parents raised me in). The Boy is still The Boy, nothing has changed. We just know that he can get get extra help at school now. We know that we can learn how we can help him to be the best Boy that he can be. I will stay on top of the teachers, counselors, & anyone else who isn't my husband or myself.
And you know what?? If he's going to have something, at least it has the coolest ribbon. And if you can't tell what "it" is, it's because we part his hair on the left....