Henry and Charlie are playing Superhero. Charlie is wearing his pyjamas and a yellow pillow case, safety pinned around his neck like a cape.
Henry: ‘Time to fight crime, Charlie!’
Charlie (with his hands on his hips, under the yellow percale cape): ‘Okay, Henry, let’s go fight crying!’
And off they go.
So here’s a funny thing: Wade and I have agreed that we are not going to talk haphazardly with people about Henry’s situation, in order to avoid labelling him (or encouraging others to do so). We told our parents, and I have told my friend Leslie and another friend, Cheryl, who lives in Minneapolis and has a son who was diagnosed two years ago with Asperger’s Syndrome (although now the doctors are reconsidering his diagnosis, but that’s neither here nor there). Wade has one friend that he may talk with, but you know men; he doesn’t really need to discuss as much as I do (apparently the discussing that I compel him to do at home is PLENTY, thank you).
Yesterday I had two chances to practice my ‘why we’re looking for a new school’ speech, once on an acquaintance (a friend of my sister-in-law’s) who we saw at the club pool, and again at SuperTarget, where I ran into a very dear friend of mine. Frankly, I felt better about my ’story’ the second time (it’s really not a story in the fictitious sense of story, it’s more of an edited truth: we love Current School, but think that H would do better in a school with smaller classrooms and more structure. Which is all true!). What I felt bad about was lying to my friend, especially since she had just told me some very personal news–even though it was the lie of omission and not an actual lie.
Which brings me to the funny thing: despite our decision not to talk publicly about all this, I have written about it here, and what I have written has been read by two of my Oklahoma neighbors, one of whom (hi, M!) will be a fellow preschool mommy next year, it appears. I haven’t told anyone about this web site, but now a real person in my real community is reading it and knows about things from my life that people I see daily don’t know, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I like that M writes anonymously on her site; it inclines me to feel that she will protect my privacy. I am also reasured by the fact that both M and Robyn have been kind and thoughtful readers of this site. And of course, it’s too late to do anything about it now; I’ve told the Internet what’s what, and I can’t take it back. It’s just interesting, that’s all.
I’m not planning to stop writing about any of this, even though I probably should, but I am going to make an effort to write about Other Things, both so I don’t make myself crazy and so I don’t make the Internet crazy. Which probably means that more people will know more things about me that no one should know. Oh well.
Is all good.
The boys are obssessed with superheroes just now. But over the weekend, I had a revelation: if they were girls, it would be Disney Princesses.
And THAT would certainly push me over the edge.
It’s been a wild week here at Friday Playdate. First the anesthesia, then the psychologist–oh, did I mention that we celebrated Henry’s fifth birthday with a visit to the lovely psychologist, who has diagnosed him as ADHD, with some mild Asperger’s tendencies? No, I think I forgot to mention that. But we also had cake (not at the doctor’s office, later, in our yard, with a few of H’s little friends) and a new bike and dinner with my in-laws, and, as Charlie’s friend Ryan says, ‘Is all good!’
It was, as I said, a wild week.
But now we seem to be getting back on track. We spent the weekend trying both to be extra nice to the boy, and fretting about what to do next. The diagnosis itself came as no real surprise–I just knew, and had known for a long time, that he was probably more hyper and unfocused than other kids, and I had already talked to my pediatrician about the Asperger’s thing–but the doctor’s suggestion that we find a new school, one with smaller classes and more structure, really threw us. After all this is June. Our first tuition installment at Current School is due the first of July. Oh, and it took us TWO YEARS to choose this school, and now we have TWO WEEKS to choose a new one. So that was a little stressful. On top of it all, the first school that the doctor recommended is one that, for reasons too personal and complicated to go into here, I do not want Henry attending. Period. So even more fun!
But yesterday I called some places–an Episcopal school with 200 total students (in pre-K through grade 8!), a Catholic school not too far from us, and the preschool at the Jewish temple, where Leslie’s kids go. The Episcopal school was closed yesterday; the Catholic school has a waiting list for fall, but H is ‘on the list’ for this year and next; the school at the temple had an opening (huzzah!) AND the class will be only seven or eight kids AND Leslie’s son will be in H’s class. By the end of the day, I was feeling better about the whole thing.
We are meeting with the doctor again on Friday, and we still have to deal with Current School (they must be notified in writing that H is not coming back, and I feel like I should go visit with the director and let her know what we’ve decided). And then at some point we have to tell H what is going to happen, and there are some other parents from Current School who I probably need to tell at least that H is leaving. And then there is the long-term ‘treatment’ which right now will NOT include any drug therapy, but is still a bit of a blur beyond that.
I am both overwhelmed and relieved. I have always had a sense that H was not like other kids, that he was just more difficult to parent, although I also tended to feel that it was my fault, that if I were just more patient or more interested or more something it wouldn’t be so very hard to be his mommy. But as it turns out, that’s not true. He just experiences the world differently, and we need better and different strategies to help him, and to teach him to help himsef. That’s all. And we are trying to think of ways to talk about his ’situation’ (especially the school change) without using any diagnostic lables. I don’t want anyone to look at my son and see the hyper autistic kid. I want them to see Henry, who is smart and funny and kind and charming and quirky and energetic and . . .
On top of all that, my dishwasher is leaking (and has destroyed some of the wood floor in our kitchen) and the brakes on Wade’s car are doing funny things. So we’ve been shopping for schools and dishwashers and cars, and yesterday I spent an hour researching laptops, because why the hell not? And somehow we seem to have decided that instead of selling this house sometime soon and moving to Suburbia (what I like to refer to as North of the Turnpike), we’ll maybe do some things here and stay a while. So now I’m also fantasizing about remodelling our currently horrible porch (screens, fans, new roof, lovely outdoor living room furniture). Then I could sit in the lovely living area with my new laptop and write on my website while the boys play in the yard. It’s such a wonderful dream.
Right now I have to go find a babysitter. Wish me luck.
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