So, after thirteen years of being an at-home mom, I picked myself up and went back to work. Dipped a toe in for three hours a day at first, and now, a few years on, full-time employment. It is not easy. We live in a rather small space, and we are not rather small ourselves, neither in size nor our dreams.
We hauled ourselves, dog included, all the way to Missouri for our niece’s wedding last year, and then to Virginia. I had sneakily slipped in (and the stars aligned) an appointment with our outside SLP. Wanting to make sure my husband was there this time, because he hadn’t been the first time, and wasn’t quite sure about this communication method for our son. If you want to know a little more of what I mean by this, by all means go check out his blog here on wordpress – The True Adventures of Just an Ordinary Autistic Guy – where he talks about his life and journey as a non-speaking austistic dude.
My husband is a great guy, an analytical mind who sees foremost things in logic, and engineering precision – he’s a database geek, a logistics engineer, and utterly practical. His antenna were up that day as we headed to our first of two sessions, as he called it, his “BS meter”. On our way back to the hotel that evening, however, he apologized to our fifteen year-old, and we made our first step into what has become a footrace to keep up with our son’s pace of acquisition.
We’re due to go back to Growing Kids Therapy Center again this summer. And I’m going to do training with them for six months, to become a “cohort” – someone who has the basics of supporting spellers like my son.
All this and more has pulled me along in the current for quite a long time now. I don’t always have time to get the sleep I want, let alone have five minutes to write (or the brain cells firing all together, all at the same time). But I fit in what I can, where and when I can.
I pulled down the sequels to the two series I started, because it just started feeling more and more as though they weren’t “right”, weren’t finished and polished, and I hated that feeling of having something out there that I hadn’t spent as much time on as the first two books had warranted. I don’t know when that time will come. If it will come. I’ll just keep chipping away, hoping that someday it will all feel right – in form and time – and it will get sent back out into the ether again.
Until then, there’s s**t that’s gotta be done. Big time s**t, because I have a kid who is serious about going to college, being an activist, and saving other nonspeakers like himself from a prison of silence. Like I said, serious, big time stuff. He’s going to meet neurodivergent peers for the first time this summer. He thinks about his future all the time and worries about it all the time. As does his mom.