I would never have chosen to become the mother of an autistic son. Not because of me though, but because of him. Because of all of the experiences he would miss out in life. Because of the choices he would never be able to make. Unfortunately neither one of us were given a choice…and I don’t mind even a little bit.
Being C.J.’s mom has been – and always will be – filled with challenges, fears, and worries that I wouldn’t have to deal with had he been ‘normal.’ It has also been filled with some of the best moments I could ever have imagined. And, honestly, moments when I want to scream and break things because his attitude totally sucks when I have to interrupt his schedule.
But mostly it’s good.
I’m sitting here a good ten minutes after his latest visit to my office, still wearing a foolish grin, because of the question he had to ask me.
If Pokemon were real, would I let him take off on an adventure with them? And he was completely serious – and very excited – as he stood here assuring me that there would be a ‘starter’ Pokemon to guard and protect him, along with five others who would help keep him safe. And he would call me every day to let me know he was okay. There were more details, but I tend to zone out when I hear the word ‘Pokemon.’ I remember something about it taking weeks, or even months, so…
Would I let him go?
Yeah, son, if there were really Pokemon, and they promised to keep you safe, and you called me every day to check in, yeah, I’d probably let you go. For a couple of weeks though…not months.
He walked away happy, and left me sitting here smiling.
With things like this to fill my life, how could I ever regret being blessed with an autistic son?
Of course he just came back out, his thoughts having turned in another direction. Do I remember Mr. D, the gym teacher at the grade school? Vaguely. Apparently Mr. D told the class that if they kept picking their noses, their brains would start to ooze out. Was that true?
Um…nope. Why exactly do you want to know? Because there’s always a chance that I’m wrong. Maybe they could start oozing out, so better safe than sorry.
Psst! Did you hear about my new secret group on Facebook? It’s so secret you won’t be able to find it no matter how hard you look. In fact, the only people who will find it are those who have subscribed to my newsletter (http://kristykjames.net/newsletter/), and who send me an email or Facebook message letting me know they’d like to join. That way I can send an email invitation.
Why a secret group? I thought it would be a fun place to just chat and get to know one another. Yes, I’m a teenager at heart. I’ve always liked the secret clubhouse kind of thing. They always seemed so mysterious and exclusive.