Boy Growing Up

This is a really long entry, sorry!!!

Aaaah, watching your child grow a wee bit older, this is the hardest part of parenting. Anthony turned a whopping seven years old this last week, and I watched him lose a bit of that innocence of his youth. As a parent, you know it's coming, but it's still hard to see. Especially the way this one came.

I can't say that I am thankful for my child having a brain disorder, but it has kept him rather locked in a state of perpetual toddlerhood, for better and worse. He delights in the simplest things, is so very loving and gentle, and often times the heavy issues of the world sort of slide over him. I love the world he shares with me, it is a bright and beautiful one, full of possibility and joy.

As most know, my ex has really pulled away from his parental role for...well, sheesh, I guess it's always been that way, just moreso over the last two years. Between him not being able to come to terms with our son's disability, and his new life with his fiance, well, he's all but completely removed himself from kiddo's world. Those in my "camp" would always shake their heads and cluck their tongues. "Eventually Anthony will pick up on it and hold it against him". But I didn't want kiddo to, I wanted him to have a relationship with his father. When I saw him delighted to go to Daddy's, I was relieved and encouraged it. Every time I felt frustration that my ex didn't want to extend visitation, I would swallow it and hide it from kiddo. I didn't lie, but I would downplay it. So I'd still see him smile at the mention of Daddy's house, write little books in his excitement, and figured all was well. After all, with Anthony's condition, would he ever really pick up on the gravity of it all? Would he actually be able to put together that there was a skew in the visitation?

*sigh*

I should've seen the warning sign when a week or so ago, Rick had the wild hair to want to keep kiddo an extra day on his visit. I've always offered him that flexibility, God knows I just want him to have more involvement. But apparently kiddo refused, and asked to be taken home. When Rick kept asking why, he'd first say he wanted to play with Smoosh, but then stated he missed me. Needless to say, this didn't really sit well, and Rick showed a bit of lashing out to kiddo, which I quickly reminded him wasn't the proper method. Ah, well, what do I know, right? I chalked the whole incident up to the fact that either kiddo was not comfortable with Rick's fiance, or he was simply clinging to the routine of spending the one night at Daddy's. When it comes to autism, never underestimate the importance of their understanding of routine. I brushed off the incident...

Leading up to his actual birthday, kiddo was pretty excited. He knew there would be a party on Saturday. He knew Mommy was sending cupcakes with him to school on Thursday (his actual bday). But best of all, he knew he'd get to see his daddy for a special time on Thursday evening, just for his birthday. He mentioned it several times, and I thought all would be well. Rick had said he would retrieve kiddo at my place after the bus dropped him off, and return him the next morning. I enjoyed a wonderful visit with Jesse for a few days (swooon), then in the evening set to work baking 3 dozen low-sugar vanilla cupcakes with whipped frosting and sprinkles. I had to go to the unemployment office that morning, so my neighbor had to send him off with the towering stack of tupperware. After I returned home I set about straightening up the house, and my phone rang. My ex of course didn't even know what time the bus arrived, and was asking to talk to kiddo to wish him a Happy Birthday. I asked why he wasn't just waiting to tell him in person in a few hours, when he nonchalantly told me he decided he wouldn't be picking kiddo up. Apparently he hadn't had time to get kiddo's present yet. I told him the present really didn't matter, kiddo just wanted to see him. Then he mentioned not even having the car. That jerk had already planned on not bothering to actually see his own son for his birthday, and waited til the last fucking second to tell me. I wanted to cry, just thinking of yet again having to disappoint kiddo with the "daddy's not coming" message...I had really hoped Rick would've been making that night special for him. I was completely broke from paying for the party, I hadn't even thought to get a special dinner together. I had barely passing cupboards, and little energy after cake baking most of the day.

I went and met kiddo's bus, and he bounced off, swinging the bag of empty, frosting smeared tupperware. I only wish I had witnessed the horde of first graders descending upon those containers like a pack of frenzied pirannhas. He beamed that toothy grin up at me, a telltale sprinkle still stuck to the side of his mouth.

"Is daddy here?" this is the sound of my heart breaking a little bit.

I bent down and took the bag off his shoulder. "Well, kiddo, Daddy can't make it today. But that's ok, we'll have a nice night together"

I saw those blue eyes cloud a bit. The smile faded a bit. "Oh". But...that was it. No request for an explaination, no tears...no...anything. I think...well, I think that may have been the moment. That moment when it clicked in his now slightly more age-wisened little brain that Daddy wasn't exactly...reliable as a daddy. I was hoping I was reading too much into the moment, and quickly changed tactics.

"Hey, birthday boy, let's go have a super birthday dinner!" I can live off of top ramen, I don't care, my kid will have an awesome goddamn birthday. "Anywhere you want out here. You name it, it's dinner. You are the boss!"

He beamed at me, the moment passed, and he vehemently demanded Subway. I trotted him over, let him order whatever he wanted plus chocolate milk and cheetos, and we skipped back home, swinging the bags in between our tightly clenched hands. My world was better.

His dad called right when we entered the apartment, and I handed the phone to kiddo so he could at least hear a birthday wish. I'd never seen him look more emotionless, he just quietly thanked his dad for the wish and said little else. Apparently Rick gave up trying to coax out a conversation, and had kiddo hand the phone back. As he angrily miffed about his child not wanting to talk to him, I made up excuses about him being hungry and staring at his dinner. I asked if he'd at least stop by the next day, present or no. He said he would, and then had to actually ask me what his child wanted for his birthday. I had to inform him of kiddo's Spiderman obsession, and the fact that he was receiving a DS. I couldn't help feeling anger and contempt that I had to actually tell him what his kid was into. Can you really know so little about your own offspring?

Of course, he never actually showed or even called the next day, and kiddo never asked after him. The cake was frosted with care, love, and a completely spastic lack of precision, my usual method. Mounds of fruit was cut up into 7-year-old sized chunks. The next morning Grandpa showed up and we had a nice breakfast of fluffy pancakes and sausage, kiddo gleefully discovered his very own DS, and we carted all of my spider-themed supplies off to the park.

More children showed than I thought, a little over 15 in all, but I had thought ahead and gotten supplies for 20. I find it a personal bit of heaven when I stand there in a playground, amidst delighted squeals of unadulterated pleasure and sunshine. Some of my favourite children from his classes were there. I will note it is a bit scary how trusting some parents are, btw. Of the two that were left entirely in my custody, only one of them had I ever actually interacted with the parents. I chalk up the second to the fact that the little girl herself knew me, and was quite comfortable with me, and probably told her parents that. She's a sweet little blond, and I thought it adorable that she kept wandering over to my side.

My favourite little princess, Anika, blessed us with her presence. I was glad my folks could finally meet the little angel I had babbled about before. Her joyous grin is brilliant, and I love every single giant leg-hug she frequently bestows at my knees. It kills me to know that her diagnosis still isn't solidified, especially when I've made so many strides with Anthony's. Her condition is much more severe, which perhaps makes her delightful attitude all the more heart wrenchingly sweet. A few of the other SPE kids were there, too, which always makes me happy. After seeing how some of them are scared to do parties, I'm glad they at least came out for this one. Seeing the gen class kids scampering around with the others, as well as my other friends' children in the mix of all of them, it just reminded me how at this age, it really doesn't matter to those kids. Anthony's bestest friend, Reece, is a "normal" child in the gen class, who apparently can be a bit of a trouble maker. But he dotes on kiddo, and seeing his gentle nature towards my son and the others is very precious. Watching all of them play together...well, the sun warmed my skin, but that moment warmed my heart more than I can possibly describe. It was predicted to rain most of that day, but magically the three hour window of the party was sunny and perfect, like the very clouds knew to part and give us this special moment.

In my exhaustion at the end of the night, I did little through the house, save packing the leftovers into the fridge. The next day, my ex finally made his appearance. Anthony seemed awkward around him, and actually kept scooting closer and closer to me on the couch. Rick was put out, and I did recommend again that he seek an appointment with Anthony's therapist. I know he won't, but hey, I have to throw it out there. He left in a huff. I won't dwell on the rest of how awkward the visit was, with him once again pretending to be my "friend", and lamenting that I am the cause of the unrest in our relationship by not inviting him to the party. Let's just go with...wtf?!

That night, I tucked kiddo in after reading some new books. He looked at me with those big, amazing eyes and said "I love you, mommy. Thank you a lot for the awesome party. You did a bunch of good things for me" (yes, I realize quoting my child verbatum makes for an awkward read, sorry). My beautiful, wonderful, appreciative baby boy is growing up. I hugged him fiercely and gave him way more kisses than his rosey little cheeks could handle, just to hear that giggle.

After I left his room, I set about the monumental task of freeing the new toys from their cardboard, inserting batteries, etc. I made a mental list of the toys that should probably be thrown out to make room for the new ones, and set aside a stack of the learning aids I know he has finally surpassed in Speech Therapy. I cut up the remaining fruit to be enjoyed over the next few packed lunches. I checked on the supply of fresh yogurt, and noted that I needed to buy more of the individual milk boxes.

This is the life of a mother, and I wouldn't trade any second of it for anything. I love and cherish every moment of being a mom, and I know that the innocence of this time is precious and fleeting. My ex is missing these wonderful moments, and my son stopped caring about that absence. I can want for everything to give my child the moon and stars. But the most important thing I can give him is my love, and to be a damn good mother to him. Tonight, I feel like I am doing a great job at both.

Happy Birthday, Baby Boy. Mama loves you more than anything.