Somewhere Over the Spectrum (disorder)

Had the little round headed fellow's IEP mtg this a.m. My Spectrum Sunshine Sugarbunny. I used to go to 'em when I was a teacher (hey, got me out of teaching a class, no?) so it was no big deal. Moved some goals and junk around. Let DH hear a perfeshional smarty person say that I'm actually a capable, fit, and (wtf?) excellent mother. Neither of us really buy it, but it's nice to hear when one is blessed with a quirky child. Or two. Or gene pool. Whatever.
LRHF is gonna ride the little bus to school. He's four. He's my baby--arrived 38 minutes after his twin b/c he was wanting some alone time with me. He's the embodiment of the magic that I don't dare embrace. Loves rainstorms. Loves wind. Loves water. Very elemental, this kid. I get that. More than I like to admit, I get that. No, I don't eat rocks (ahem) or crayons, but I probably would like it if I did. Who can say? We're a lot alike.
I try to see him as a mother and as a teacher. I think that this means I use a mother's heart and a teacher's words. I do see progress. He makes progress and I totally miss it b/c his brothers are shoving sticks into each others' belly buttons and imitating train whistles. He's all there. I tell people that the pantry is fully stocked, but the door's hard to open. Receptive language is good. If he feels like it. He's also a man of my dh's bloodline and so what he can do and what he will do are two very different menu options. I'm learning a lot from him. He, simply by virtue of being himself, has shown me a facet of God that I am definitely too thick to see on my own. So, thank you little round headed fellow. We'll figure the rest out. The little bus. The other kids. The IEPs. All the condiments that come with a spectrum sugarbunny. (Like hunting down and eradicating the annual crop of bright shiny red nandina berries before someone decides to be a birdy and taste them)

It is exhausting and I am too old for even a passel of regular old boykids, much less this brood. It's a lot. I know this for a fact because people are always telling me that it's a lot. So I tell you the same. To me, it's just a lot of just how it is. This is not to imply that I would win any mommy awards, believe you me. My children get corn syrup stuff and chicken nuggets. My children usually need haircuts and baths. My children (sit down here) have no computer games or whatever those thingies are. Sometimes, I think my children have no sane mother figure. I dunno. When I was a teacher, my mentor explained how kids find the teachers who best sooth them through hard days. She was a million times right. I found her, didn't I? Anyway, I believe that it is just the same for mothers and children. I don't want to believe it because it's hard, hard, hard, and a lot of it involves screaming children and body fluids, and everybody else's kids seem so freaking normal, but what can you do? Oh, it would bring you to tears to hear this child's version of Hark the Herald Angels Sing (trans:" hardee heh angelssng, goryto nubon kin" but with sweet, sweet perfect little voice.

Oh, he's a million gifts to me. And a million trials. Trials and gifts. checks and balances. Hmm...did I just learn something there?

Nah.

I have to go. It's not all spiritual awakenings and smiling angels in LahLahLand. Right now, for example, I'm getting a faint whiff of permanent marker from the living room so uh...more later.

thanks.
lah