Better than Normal | Home Educating Family Association Blog

I have two sons with Asperger?s syndrome. One day my younger son?s words came as a shock. ?You know, Mamma, I think Asperger?s is the best thing that ever happened to me. If I was like everyone else, how boring would that be? I can?t imagine being trapped in a neurotypical mind where I think and act like everyone else. It?s a lot better to be me and to be able to think about the things I think about.?

My mind went back twenty years. I could never have imagined words so sweet. My oldest son toddled around the doctor?s office. ?If only he was one of those quiet babies who sits calmly and plays with lap toys while waiting.? He was, as usual, on the move. I winced, waiting for that moment when his charm would grow thin, and the other patients would begin to grimace.

?He?s smart! He?ll do well in school.? The lady smiled at me as if she knew I was nervous about his restlessness.

?Thank you.? I bit my tongue wanting to tell her. I couldn?t put my finger on it, but I could feel something in my bones. My teacher?s instinct was kicking in. Smart, yes. Brilliant even, maybe. Teacher?s pet? Except for the most flexible and creative of teachers, not in my wildest dreams!

When he was three, a gymnastics class filled me with horror. In a blink, his peers jumped into a pit of foam squares. He clung to the edge and eased off millimeter by millimeter. What took the others seconds took him minutes. Many minutes. His coach tutt-tutted, ?Maybe you should have him tested. We think he has ADHD.? I tucked my tail, packed him up in the car, and drove home in defeat. Gymnastics was not for us.

My warning bells clanged louder. It took minutes to get from the porch to the car as he investigated every ladybug in between. His play involved dumping bins of toys. After that, he was done. The Weather Channel became his fascination. As did Christmas lights. Especially the blinking ones. ADHD made sense. But, not really.

A kinder, gentler pre-K teacher offered a home class for five boys. I snapped up an opening. Her kindness, flexibility, and creativity melted me and captivated my wiggler. ?He never appears to pay attention to anything we do. He?s always looking off and away at something else. I think he?s clueless. Then, he?ll answer every question I ask and make observations the other boys don?t even know to think about.?

I told my husband, ?He?s brilliant, but he is going to frustrate his teachers. They aren?t going to know how smart he is. He won?t be able to get what he knows down on paper the way they want it recorded. ADHD? I?m just not sure. By the way, I will not homeschool.? I repeated that last part like a mantra from the day the pregnancy stick said ?baby?.

Other kids reveled at McDonald?s playground. He cowered in fear, overwhelmed by the noise. At the county park, his peers ran over a short swinging bridge in two steps. He?d drop, sprawl, and cling by bloody fingernails if anyone set foot on it while he was crossing. He didn?t trip over his own feet, but subtle delays in fine and gross motor skills puzzled me. Other kids tied their shoes at three. I didn?t even try. I hoped we?d master it by the time he was ten.

I realized people were looking at me differently. I could almost hear them saying what I knew they were thinking. ?If she weren?t such a neurotic, nut case, he?d be fine. Geez!? The older he got, the more the pressure mounted. I was a failure.

Finally, the fourth round of testing led to an answer that made sense: Asperger?s. It was the best and worst of days. I wasn?t crazy. It was not my fault. Still, the answer brought sadness and so many, many more questions. What would his life look like? Would it ever be normal? Would he be ok? Would we be ok? How will we get from here to normal? If we don?t, what then?

Though only in first grade, he was drowning. I found myself re-teaching what he covered in six hours at school for three hours at home every afternoon. The mantra that had chased me finally caught me. I was a de facto homeschooling mom. Why not remove the middle man and reduce ?the pain? to only three hours a day? Kenny Roger?s knew what he was talking about when he sang, ?You gotta know when to hold ?em and know when to fold ?em . . . .? I folded. We walked away from normal and into the unknown future ahead.

It?s been fourteen years. I still hold my breath knowing he is ?normal? but also knowing he has to work at it. His younger brother is the benefactor of our learning curve. We are still finding our way. But then, aren?t we all?

Mothers come to me now. ?I have a friend. She needs to talk to you.? I smile. I nod. I know. Rarely will ?that mother? come to me because she is afraid. She is afraid of the future she does not know. She is afraid the whispers she imagines are true. If only she were different, her son or daughter would be normal. She is afraid what she lives today is what she will always live. If she talks to me, that word will suddenly be real: Asperger?s.

If I could talk to her, I would wrap my arms around her worried, worn out heart. I would say the things I wish someone else had said to me. Maybe your child?s label is different, but the results are just as perplexing. If you are in the trenches today, fearing for a child whose struggles define your days, my words are for you.

No one is ?normal?. Everyone has ?something?. Your new normal will require refinements in the way you look at life and the expectations you have held so dear. But your new normal is not ?less than?. In fact, if you adopt the wisdom of my son, you may awaken one day to find the journey has, in fact, been ?better than?.

Now it?s your turn! Have an encouraging story or quote from your child? Leave it here to bless others!
Carol Anne (CA to her friends) always wanted to be a writer and never wanted to be a homeschooler. God had a plan. Her Child Development degree and teaching experiences prepared her for life as the homeschooling wife and mother of three fellas who live on the Asperger?s end of the Spectrum. As she prepares for an empty nest, she has returned to her writing roots and added public speaking to her resume. At twenty-one, Son #1 has traveled to China and Australia as a professional photographer. He is working toward degrees in photography and web design. He has written and arranged music for the local homeschool orchestra. Son #2 is? a rising sophomore. He aspires to be a Christian Apologist as well as a heavy metal rocker. He plays the bass guitar and would like navy blue hair and tatts. One day. Visit CA via: confessionsofafraidycat.blogspot.com and https://www.facebook.com/ConfessionsOfAFraidyCatPin It

Source: http://www.homeschoolconvention.com/blog/better-than-normal/

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