The Privilege of Growing Up
Today, I brought my son Sawyer to his first grade assessment at his school.
We opened up all of his school supplies and put them in his backpack before we left.
He was chattering nonstop while sharpening his pencils.
He hoisted up his backpack while exclaiming how heavy it was.
We walked to the truck.
He opened his door, climbed in and buckled his seatbelt, immediately asking me to play Lizzo.
He asked me what his teacher’s name is and where his classroom is going to be.
I pretended to fake cry, mumbling something about stopping time.
He yelled out, ‘Stop crying mom! You are so embarrassing!’
He asked me if their was food on his face. And if his teacher was going to like him.
I peeked in the rearview mirror.
I hardly recognized the shaggy blonde boy looking back at me whose face was covered in syrup and what appeared to be some sort of chocolate treat.
He chatted with me the whole drive to school. Asking questions about his baby brother and telling me that he will protect him when he starts school. Because he’s the big brother. And that’s what big brothers do.
Welp.
Then quickly followed up with…’Mom, I never want to get a real job. They seem terrible.’
Once at school we filled his locker and desk. He sat with his teacher and practiced reading, writing and math.
We visited with friends and found the lunchroom. He even ran up to his kindergarten teacher and hugged her. He believes she hung the moon.
And then we were off on a scavenger hunt to tour the school.
I peeked at the third grade pod as we walked by.
I let myself see the kids. The boys specifically.
I noticed how big they were. How mature. How cute. I listened to them reading out loud. I heard a few discussing their summers.
And I thought about the privilege of growing up. And how so many of us take it for granted.
Moving onto the next grade. Making friends. Milestones flying by. Playing sports. Singing in the choir. Playing the recorder. Getting cast in a play.
I felt the lump rising. I felt the feelings and I whispered inside my head, ‘That should be my Cooper. We should be here together. Me and both of my boys. This isn’t fair.’
I let myself feel it. I closed my eyes. Let the ‘should be’ level me. Fast. Right in my gut.
I stood there until I heard Sawyer yell, ‘Mama, this is where the bus picks us up!’
Deep breath and I was done.
Tomorrow, I will go to Cooper’s ITP meeting at his therapy center. There are no grades. No markers in time. No first day or last day of school.
Just a continuous cycle.
We will talk about his strengths and weaknesses.
We will talk about how awesome he is. And yet challenging.
We will talk about his current behaviors and the data surrounding them.
We will talk about hitting and kicking and flopping.
We will discuss his new goals. And all the ones he has mastered in the last three months.
Things like sitting, stopping, and controlling his emotions.
At moments it will be painful, almost like hearing the same story over and over again except the age of the main character changes. It will sting.
And in the next minute it will be beautiful, hearing how hard he works to achieve the things most of us take for granted.
As a mom, I live in two different worlds. Polar opposites, each with it’s own unique twists and turns.
This time of year is hard on me. On my heart. I won’t lie about that. No ever.
I feel the weight of severe autism more than ever. And the rest of the world passing us by.
I can tell you this for sure, I will never take the privilege of growing up for granted. It’s a pretty amazing thing.
Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook, subscribe for exclusive videos, and subscribe to our newsletter.
Interested in writing for Finding Cooper’s Voice? LEARN MORE
