Finding the Happy Bits.

Days and nights are difficult for me now.  I won’t bore or depress you with details. Let’s just say I hate the hospital emergency room and leave it at that.  I’ve seen way too much of it.

I have a “medication” for the stress, the fear, the sadness, the difficulty.  My medication  is my child.  He is a joy, a smiling face, a dancer, a jokester.  He has been entertaining himself a lot lately.  We still do homework at night.  We cuddle.  We fight over combing the hair.  He defies me.  I reinforce my orders.  He does evasive maneuvers.  I try not to smile or laugh or give up in these showdowns.

He tells me he loves me every day.  With everything else going on in my life, my son’s echolalia, the obsessive mantra over the planets and their moons, the screaming, the running to make it to the toilet, and the need for conformity in the completion of every step of our routine, all seem like a vacation.

Yes, I said that.

That’s how much “other” stress I’m under.

But truly, my little boy is a delight.  He shines the light at the end of my tunnel.  When I lose my way, I think of him.  I look at his beautiful face.  His smile.  His eyes.  His little hands, making a picture.  His voice telling me he loves me.

The kindergarten has started a program where he must read a story every night to me.  He reads it and I sign off that he has made it through.  He read the word “dreadful” in the midst of the story the other night without skipping a beat. That was pretty amazing.  I ask him questions about the stories we read.  Sometimes, I have to ask a couple times.  He answers appropriately about 60 percent of the time.  The rest I have to prompt or teach him.  I actually enjoy that time.  I think he does too.

He is my future.  And though I worry, and fret, I see happiness looking that direction.  Happiness that is my pill to help me through the bitter night I am wading through waist deep.

His screaming that would fray my nerves?  The endless toys that litter the floor?  Delightful.  All of those things are signs of life.  Of budding, enjoyable, innocent, unconcerned-with-deep-loss, life.  Nodding a head, in time with the beat of music, a twinkle in his eye, my son shows me there is and always will be lots of happiness ahead.  Carefree wonder.  He shows me that every hour of every day.

In every effort to help at the grocery store by pushing the cart.  In every dance.  In every laugh.

I won’t forget there can be happiness, even in the midst of heart-wrenching difficulty.  Because to understand that, my friends, is a gift.  And the hugs from my five year old boy, remind me of that just when I need it most.


About solodialogue

I'm a lawyer and the mom of a 6 year old boy with autism. I work part time and spend the rest driving here and there and everywhere for my son's various therapies. Instead of trying cases, I now play Pac-man and watch SpongeBob. I wear old sweaters and jeans and always, always flat shoes to run after my son. Yeah, it's different but I wouldn't change it for anything. The love of my child is the most powerful, beautiful and rewarding aspect of my life.
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12 Responses to Finding the Happy Bits.

  1. They are a gift, aren’t they? I’m so glad you have T right now and it sounds like he is doing his very best to keep you on your toes.

    Of course, I am thinking about you and your family — sending my hugs and all the strength I have to get you through the day ❤

  2. Flannery says:

    I hope he’s helping by loading some of those Corona cases into the cart, because you could use a drink, my friend.

    I’m so glad you are hearing words and receiving feedback that feeds your soul.

    My thoughts are with you during this difficult time.

  3. Lizbeth says:

    I’ve been thinking a lot of you lately. Hugs, my friend, hugs. It’s amazing how, when we need it the most, our little ones show us the way.


  4. I’m so glad you have him, and he has you. ((love))

  5. Grace says:

    My son has gotten me through some dark times.

    Flan totally beat me to the punch in making a smart alec comment about those cases of Corona. Curses. Foiled again.

    I am sending that old guy from the mall out to find you RIGHT NOW and give you a big hug from me. Because I know you’ll love that.

    You remain in my thoughts. Peace & blessings.

  6. Teresa says:

    You need him. He needs you. It works.
    You are in my thoughts.

  7. eof737 says:

    We live for the light in our kids eyes and I so get this post… more *hugs*

  8. I hate to hear about how hard things are for you right now. But I’m very glad that you have Tootles and he has you to brighten each other’s days.

  9. Lana Rush says:

    I’m so glad you’re managing to find some bits of joy in the midst of these difficult days. And that you’re taking the time to really notice them, to not miss them. It’s these things that will keep you going no matter what lies ahead. Praying for you and your family.

  10. Broot says:

    ((hugs)) It’s the little things.

  11. Lisa says:

    I am new here…so sorry about your mom. My mom got sick in May 2010…and my 3 boys were my refuge, too. So glad you have him to help you through this very difficult time. Tate’s echolalia tends to cheer me up, too.

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