The door leading out to the garage opens. I know who is coming in. It’s Brady, my beautifully unique and incredibly challenging autistic child. At times, he moves like a reckless elephant. I can tell you if it is Brady coming down the stairs or not. He moves with speed and often jumps down a few stairs for the thrilling sensation on his bare feet.
Prior to going outside, he had struggled to complete his math homework with our after-school helper. It’s not usually the material that causes the long homework durations. He miraculously picks up on the patterns and mathematical reasoning. His struggle stems from his inability to sit still and keep his eyes on the page in front of him. Brady is not only autistic; he also has ADHD.
I don’t know what it’s like to be him. However, I do clearly see that it’s arduous and very fatiguing for him to concentrate and be attentive after coming home from a classroom environment where he is also expected to focus, learn, and complete his work.
CALM BODY, Brady. BE STILL AND LOOK AT THIS.
“Brady, please look at where I am pointing on the page.” He’s fidgeting with his shirt, or his pants, or anything within reach.
I see how he squirms around in his seat, reaches out to touch our lovely helper’s long blonde hair. “Can I braid this part for you?” he asks. “Yes, if you can do the next two math problems first,” she calmly replies.
Brady must MOVE. He cannot help himself. As he wrestles to keep his attention on the task at hand, he moves without being aware of how much he is squirming until he flops off his chair.
I feel frustration seeping up but swallow it back down because I know he cannot help these restless behaviors, especially towards the end of a demanding school day. Luckily, his helper has the patience of a saint (and according to Brady, “the hair of a princess”).
He closes the door with a bang and thuds flamboyantly into the kitchen.
“I’ll be living with you in this house until I’m 25,” Brady declares with a seriousness that makes us all pause and look over at him.
I’m the one who speaks after a moment of silence. I really don’t want anyone focusing on why he’s planning on staying with us when the other siblings will likely be gone. (Let’s talk about what happens at that pivotal age of 25.)
“Where are you going at age 25?”
“I’m going to be on top of a mountain,” he replies resolutely. Recently he hiked to the top of a mountain with me and his younger cousin. They both loved hiking through the brush, stepping over fallen trees and forging their own path to the top. He’s been talking about climbing mountains ever since.
I can’t help but wonder what Brady will be like at age 25. He’s progressed so much from his early preschool days. Do I want to go back to earlier years and relive my life when Brady was age 3 or age 5 or even age 7?
At age 3, he was climbing my countertops and going down the stairs backwards (headfirst while lying on his back). But also, at age 3, he spent up to ten minutes at a time carefully stacking blocks and books.
At age 5, he was picking his skin scabs incessantly and chewing on his clothing to the point of destruction (rips). But also, at age 5, he was talking in sentences more regularly.
At age 7, he was refusing to get dressed most mornings and hiding under tables at school. But also, at age 7, with the help of an aide, he was writing small complete sentences. Most mornings, when he woke up before everyone else, he was using his hands to create pieces of artwork in his room.
Every year he continues to bloom in unexpected ways and so every year is my new favorite year with Brady. I can say the same thing for my other three children. The privilege of witnessing a child grow and become their fullest selves is like watching a seed…
reach into the compacted soil that is still softening from a long icy winter,
extend its first fragile baby roots,
shed its seed pods while bursting up with a bold green stem,
spread out its lush new leaves,
grow even taller despite some very windy nights,
form a delicate bud even though there were plenty of deeply overcast days,
and when the time is just right, for this cannot be predicted with any kind of precision,
the bud begins to reveal yet another layer of beauty previously unseen.
Brady looks down at a gathering of small black ants on the sidewalk as he grips the two pennies that he found on the ground earlier in the day.
“Mom, do these ants wish they had my two cents?”
“I don’t think the ants care about money because they have no use for it,” I reply with certainty.
“Do the ants wonder why humans use money?”
Every year I learn more about who my kids are, how they see the world, and what they will conclude. I find it all humorous and fascinating. Each year they are unfolding like a flower before my eyes as their roots reach deeper into rocky soil. They continue to show me that they are capable, and although I don’t know when they will spread a new leaf or suddenly flash a new bud, I know it will happen because it has happened before. I have learned that what appears static is often buzzing with development underneath.
So, every year I do my best to relish whatever present stages each of my four developing children are nestled in (or between). I see the beauty in each stage despite the current struggles. I recognize that nothing about children is stagnant and that every year uncovers surprising joys and layers of astonishing colors just waiting to surface when they are ready to pop.
Be still, take a deep breath and look at their faces, I tell myself when things seem chaotic and overwhelming.
You are witnessing and shaping their lives each moment, every day. Slow down and try to embrace it all, knowing what a privilege it is to be a part of this sacred journey.
This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post with the fabulous Kristi Campbell of www.findingninee.com. The theme was “my favorite year/favorite age.”
She does have the hair of a princess. I wonder which one? Elsa? Merida? and someone compared jockey Michelle Payne to an Australian Disney Princess because her mother died when she was 6 months old.
And relishing present stages – is this for the “Favourite Age” meme? Or a general principle?
Ants do often use and share their opinions and they do it from this chemical they release which is the ant version of pheronemomes – a means of communication of the non-verbal variety.
I imagine ants do relate to how humans use money from their own experiences saving things. Yes, ants do have the saving/hoarding behaviour down especially in groups.
Interesting again to read about Brady and his development.
25 is probably around the right brain age. And statistically one in four do stay with their families during this time.
I am completely with you that every single age brings such wonder and amazement. It’s fascinating to see how they bloom and grow and gain new skills. I love how you used the imagery of a flower – its roots growing deeper into the soil, colors revealed. Beautiful. xo
Thank you, my friend.
I love hearing about Brady and his unique and beautiful journey.
I think this whole growing children thing is way beyond my wildest imagination. Harder, yes, but also so fulfilling to see each and every age. Sometimes my own childhood seems like such a blur and now I’m loving watching them go through it, as my parents must have with me.
Thanks, Tamara. I have to remind myself that these childhood years go by so quickly. I keep looking at their faces and it helps me feel less anxious and be more present. I can feel more joy when I stop worrying about all the “what ifs.” Thanks for reading!