This Saturday is World Autism Awareness Day.
I have realized recently how far away I have gotten from discussing, spreading the word about and generally "working" on the cause.
After spending some time talking about it with my significant other and a few other close friends, I realized I have reached a difficult point in both mine and Little Boy's lives. I realized it even when he was smaller, but it keeps coming to me in small doses all the time......the realization of Little Boy growing up.
While it was difficult and upsetting to receive the diagnosis at age 3, so many behaviors can still be chalked up to being a baby. At the start of school, so much can be attributed to the changes of being in school and having to grow up a little. But now, at almost age 9, the picture of the future is becoming clearer.
It has been especially hard in recent months as Little Boy's dad has wanted him to be more involved in various activities: camps, sports, and other events that require additional caregivers.
More hands in the pot is the way I see it. And that is hard for me.
As a woman with education and experience in various fields of social work, I am immediately wary of "too many hands in the pot" that is my kid. The possible abuse and neglect of him is never far from my mind.....as a matter of fact, it scares me to panic attacks.
This has been quite a dilemma because Little Boy's dad, while obviously protective of him, is not protective in the same way that I am. I don't think this is unique to us.....I really do think it's the difference between most mothers and fathers. He wants Little Boy to grow and learn, and so do I. But sometimes I just want Little Boy to be safe and happy. Maybe I am sheltering him too much......I'm not sure. All I know is, sometimes when I pick Little Boy up from events and he is singing happily in the back of the car, the overwhelming feeling of relief of having him back with me is so great that I cry on the drive home.
I guess in some ways, he will always be my 3 year-old following me around the house or sitting in the grocery cart while I steer and tickle under his chin.
I think this is the dilemma of most mothers. Autism only makes it that much more complicated.
I have realized recently how far away I have gotten from discussing, spreading the word about and generally "working" on the cause.
After spending some time talking about it with my significant other and a few other close friends, I realized I have reached a difficult point in both mine and Little Boy's lives. I realized it even when he was smaller, but it keeps coming to me in small doses all the time......the realization of Little Boy growing up.
While it was difficult and upsetting to receive the diagnosis at age 3, so many behaviors can still be chalked up to being a baby. At the start of school, so much can be attributed to the changes of being in school and having to grow up a little. But now, at almost age 9, the picture of the future is becoming clearer.
It has been especially hard in recent months as Little Boy's dad has wanted him to be more involved in various activities: camps, sports, and other events that require additional caregivers.
More hands in the pot is the way I see it. And that is hard for me.
As a woman with education and experience in various fields of social work, I am immediately wary of "too many hands in the pot" that is my kid. The possible abuse and neglect of him is never far from my mind.....as a matter of fact, it scares me to panic attacks.
This has been quite a dilemma because Little Boy's dad, while obviously protective of him, is not protective in the same way that I am. I don't think this is unique to us.....I really do think it's the difference between most mothers and fathers. He wants Little Boy to grow and learn, and so do I. But sometimes I just want Little Boy to be safe and happy. Maybe I am sheltering him too much......I'm not sure. All I know is, sometimes when I pick Little Boy up from events and he is singing happily in the back of the car, the overwhelming feeling of relief of having him back with me is so great that I cry on the drive home.
I guess in some ways, he will always be my 3 year-old following me around the house or sitting in the grocery cart while I steer and tickle under his chin.
I think this is the dilemma of most mothers. Autism only makes it that much more complicated.