Yesterday I had a marathon meeting with disability services and the school filling out form after form for HIGH SCHOOL funding for Boo.
Listing his deficits.
Trying desperately to fit my dodecahedron boy into a square box.
Back and forth ‘but what about this?’ and ‘But he can’t do that’
Rifling through papers chronicling all his wrongs and can’ts and will nots and can nots.
Trying to tick that number 4 box in every possible situation.
Number 4. Worst case scenario.
I am used to it. I kept telling them that they cannot offend me.
Just do it. Point out his faults. Find the evidence.
Get him the motherfucking funding and I can lick my wounds later.
Every now and then we would take a break and laugh or reminisce about when he did something hilarious or said something funny or about how he wrote the entire IT curriculum in Prep and then went on to make all the books to help the other kids read.
But don’t mention that in the funding application.
Concentrate on the meltdowns.
The lack of self care.
The shit that is not age appropriate.
The stims and the mobility issues, the lack of spacial awareness and constant echolalia.
The anxiety and obsessive actions.
The monotone speech, need for constant supervision, the fact that he can’t wipe his arse or tie his shoelaces.
Write that down.
With examples and motherfucking diagrams.
Yeah, when it is all written down I don’t know how the fuck I do it either…
This morning when we got to school and he stopped me.
‘I go in BY MYSELF’
‘You stay in the car mummy. I go in by myself’
He kissed me.
He grabbed his bag.
He got out of the car and started walking towards the gate.
I sat there stunned and just a little bit freaked out.
He came running back to the car.
‘Aren’t you going to work now? Shoo with you!’
He was smiling.
I smiled back and turned on the car.
Slowly driving as he wandered in the school gate, flapping his arms in glee while kids ran up to him to say hello.
I stopped at the gate, a backlog of cars behind me.
I watched as my boy,
My beautiful boy that on paper is full of deficits and disabilities but in reality is just fucking amazingly AWESOME,
Walk into the school ground all by himself.
‘By myself Mummy’
THIS is what defines my boy.
THIS is what makes me so damn fucking lucky.
The boy that was never meant to toilet train or talk,
WALKING INTO SCHOOL ON HIS OWN.
Excuse me, I have something in my eye… again.