"Hi, My name is...and my son has Aspergers"

For two hours last night I was normal. My husband was normal. We were normal together. When I mentioned my feelings on my son hitting me, there were no looks of shock or bugged eyes. When my husband talked about sometimes needing a break from our son's intense interests, you could see the other's heads nodding in understanding. For just that short time, our family was just like everyone else's.

I guess I naively thought once you got a diagnosis of Aspergers that would be the beginning of therapies, support groups, classes. I had figured there would be tons of handouts with all kinds of different groups to join. Boy, was I wrong. Nothing really changes. You get the diagnosis, go home, and the next day is exactly the same just now with a name. And so since Jacob's diagnosis in October we have been searching. Looking for someone, anyone to connect with. Someone who also has a child with Aspergers. It took a while, but we found one, and not only one, but several!

A month ago while attending a workshop put on by my son's school on "Friendship", I hesitantly asked a question at the end of the session. In my question, I mentioned my son having Aspergers. You would have thought I was an alien by the way the group looked at me. Some with pity, some uninterested, some judging, some sympathetic but glad it wasn't their child. The moderator had no real solutions. She couldn't relate to my situation no matter how much she tried, and she quickly tried to brush me aside. I felt alone and discouraged. And that's when just as I was getting up to leave as the session ended, a man at the table next to me introduced himself and said, "My 9 year old son has Aspergers." Those were words I had been wanting, hoping and praying to hear from someone for months. He went on to tell me how they were in the beginning stages of helping form a support group and gave me all the information I would need. I went home that night giddy, filling my husband in on my conversation with this man. I was so thankful I had said something in front of the crowd of well over a hundred. Finally, another person who got it.

So that's what brought us to the church last night on a beautiful spring evening. The meeting began like every support group you see on TV, with everyone introducing themselves and saying what brought them there. As I listened to everyone's stories, it felt so familiar and comfortable, so much like our own, the only differences being the ages and passions of each child.

The thing that was great is everyone just listened and shared stories of how they could relate. There was no "well intended" parenting advice. There was no "That wouldn't happen in my house!" Or "Oh, my son does that too and is obsessed with Spiderman right now. Last week it was dinosaurs."  (Ummm....no, sorry...that's not an obsession.) That's what made the meeting different. All these people got it. They really got it! For the first time, someone actually one hundred percent understood everything we were saying, feeling, and experiencing with Jacob, and without any judgement or preconceived ideas of their own.

Sometimes when we try to explain our son to our family, friends, acquintances, or even strangers, as much as they want to, they really don't get it. All kids can be scared of stuff, have special interests, not like to get their hands dirty, have an occasional meltdown. Aspergers is much more than that. Fears are intense and irrational causing panic. Special interests last for years and that is the ONLY topic they want to talk about from the moment they wake until they go to sleep. Sensory issues prevent them from enjoying typical childhood activities such as playdoh or sandpiles. And meltdowns are not occasional. My son could still be having meltdowns as an adult. Hopefully with time he will learn some coping skills. Aspergers is everyday, all day long. Sometimes I feel like I have to convince people that Jacob has Aspergers, because he does look and act normal much of the time. And a lot of times well intended parenting advice is given to which I politely nod. Typical parenting approaches are not effective with Jacob. Trust me. We've tried them. Aspergers is not a parenting problem, nor can it be solved with "good" parenting skills. Sometimes people will say, "Well, just tell him. Tell him how it's going to be!" Really? Really? Good luck with that. I try not to focus on it or let people's ideas on my son bother me, since I know they are well meaning.

I didn't want to leave last night. I think my husband and I both could have stayed for hours. It just felt right. I felt alive again. It was as if it gave me that hope and reassurance I needed. It made me feel that my husband and I were doing ok. We were doing the best we could. A huge weight felt like it had been lifted off my shoulders giving me a clear mind and the energy to keep pushing forward. Next month can't come soon enough.

I Will Not Allow My Son's Light to be Stolen: Bullying

Last week my husband and I were working our church's Parents Night Out program. It was towards the end of the night, and the kids were getting their jammies on. I walked down to the ladies restroom with two six year old girls in tow. I have never heard so much giggling as these little girls got into their pajamas. Finally one of the girls came out of the stale in a beautiful long flowing nightgown. I said to her, "I love your long nightgown. It is so pretty." To which she proudly said, "It is a size eight!" The other girl hearing that quickly exited her stale and said, "Well, I wear anywhere from a size seven to a ten!" Not to be outdone, the first girl said, "I really meant a size eighteen. Mine is an eighteen." Obviously as I looked at this teeny girl there was no way she was a size eighteen. But what I found so interesting was their desire to be the bigger size. As little girls they have heard their whole life to "be a big girl" or "eat your dinner so you grow up big and strong". But where do we as society and parents do them wrong? At what age does that end and they start wanting to be this perfectly glamorous skinny girl? At what point can they no longer be comfortable with themselves and celebrate their differences, but instead desire to be something unattainable?

And so over the course of the last week it has still played on my mind. When is it our children's innocence is lost and they come to believe their differences are not beautiful?

When Jacob was four and in preschool, I remember one day he asked me why his friend AJ at school had brown skin. I told him that his skin was brown because God made him that way and we are all different. He was curious about their differences, but what I thought interesting it had taken him close to a year to notice or comment.

Last year while in kindergarten, Jacob came home a few weeks after school had started, and was talking really fast in a gibberish manner. When I asked him about it, he said, "I am talking in Spanish, mommy, just like Alex." "Honey, that's not Spanish," I told him. "But I want to talk in Spanish, too. " he said jealous of his little friend. "Why does Alex talk in Spanish and not me? " Again I talked about how God has made us all special, and again this answer satisfied him.

Another time Jacob asked me about our young neighbor boy who our neighbor's had recently adopted from China. He was born without a hand, and Jacob wanted to know why his hand was missing. Funny again how it took many months for him to even notice. "He is really a good golfer even with one hand!" Jacob exclaimed. Again, I talked about God making each of us unique and special, and again he was satisfied with my answer. Later that day I saw him in the backyard awkwardly swinging his club with one hand while the other was tucked in his sleeve.

For my son it is so easy to brush aside all the differences of others. Will it be as easy for others to brush his differences aside? Jacob has many friends right now. In fact the other day while walking home from school, we walked a different route which took us in front of the school. All the car riders were waiting there for the parents to arrive. As we walked in front of his class, he was greeted with loud cries of "Jacob, Jacob!" and "Hi Jacob!" with many scrambling to get up to give him a high five. A beautiful sight to see for a mom knowing that socialization will never be easy for my son.

So at age six, his peers are pretty accepting and tolerant of Jacob. It's not that they haven't noticed his differences. While helping out in his classroom for parties, many have mentioned Jacob's love for elephants and his detest of loud noises. I know from his teacher they have commented on his humming in class being distracting. Yet, they more than tolerate him, they include him. Why does this have to end? And why as a society do we allow it?

When you read about Aspergers and their social difficulties, you learn that bullying is severe for kids with Aspergers. Some figures say 90% are bullied on a daily basis. Why is this allowed to continue? I even read how some bullies will try to trigger meltdowns in children with Aspergers.

Children aren't born mean spirited. They aren't brought into this world with hate towards their neighbor. They aren't born bullies. It is learned, and there is no one else to blame but us, all of us. As a society we have turned our head to bullying for too long. We have brushed it aside as "kids will be kids" or "let's just let them work it out on their own."

Whether you like Hilary Clinton or not, she hit the nail on the head, it truly does take a village. To turn this around it takes every one of us as adults and parents to have a no tolerance for bullying. It takes each of us to celebrate the differences in each other. It means gossiping and judging must end. We must accept each other regardless of race, creed, sex, age, disabilities, size, or whatever it is that makes us different. We need to realize that there is no "normal". Each of us are unique. We need to help our children see beyond differences and realize we are all special.

Last Friday night while my husband and I were at the movies, we saw the trailer for the new movie, "Bully". Wow! My heart broke for the young boy on the screen. As they showed pictures of him as a child, tears started rolling down my cheeks. Here was this bright-eyed beautiful little boy full of life. He was happy. You could tell by the smile on his face, he was happy. And then you saw him older, broken, the light no longer in his eyes. This is my biggest fear for my son. I worry so much about someone stealing his light. Bullying needs to stop. AND IT STARTS WITH ALL OF US!

I will not allow my son's light to be stolen!

No Bad Gas!

I'm sure the title enough has peeked your interest. Last night our family got together at my sister's house with her family for a fish fry of fish we had caught on our family vacation last summer. It was a beautiful night, so Jacob decided to eat outside on the patio with some of the others, while my husband, nephews and I sat inside. While enjoying the fish, we heard a loud single BOOM off in the distance. A firework I am guessing. One quick little blast, and my husband and I knowingly looked at each other.

Jacob is terrified of fireworks. They are probably one of his biggest fears. How ironic that my sweet boy was born around the Fourth of July. Even the thought of fireworks sends him into a panic. The other day he handed me a kids book and told me he didn't want it anymore because it bothered him. Sure enough when I glanced inside, there was one page that had a photo of a fireworks display. It doesn't matter if he hears the boom sound. In his mind it is real and it terrifies him. Nothing can get him over his fear. Not even his love for our major league baseball team. The single firework they shoot off after a homerun keeps Jacob fearfully at home to watch the game on TV.

And so last night, it didn't take but a minute for Jacob to carry his dinner plate inside because of the bang he had heard outside.

"Mommy, was that a firework?"

"I'm not sure." I said trying to sound uninterested to help downplay the situation. " I don't think so, but even if it was, it is over."

"I think it was a firework," Jacob insisted. I knew we had to do something or Jacob would never want to return to his aunt and uncle's house again, forever associating the firework with their home.

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't a firework." I replied.

Thankfully Jacob's uncle stepped in, "I think it was just a car backfiring."

"What's that mean?" Jacob inquired. His uncle briefly described what would make a car backfire, but I could tell Jacob wasn't listening, but instead the wheels were turning wondering if this could happen to our car.

Sure enough. "Mommy, would our car do a boom?"

I needed to squash this fast or Jacob would never get in a car again. "No, it happens to really old, old cars. Not our cars."

Still not satisfied with my answer he asked, "But what if it does?"

"Jacob, it won't. It only happens when you have bad gas." I replied not thinking how funny that sounded.

"Mommy, do you have bad gas?" Jacob asked seriously, and I heard my nephews let out a chuckle.

"No, nope, I do not have bad gas."

"But how do you know if you have bad gas?" Jacob asked and again my nephews quietly laughed at the connotation of the conversation.

"I just make sure I don't get bad gas. Before I get my gas, I ask the guy, 'Hey, do you have bad gas?' and if he does I don't get his gas." Again more laughing.

Not satisfied with my answer he turned to my husband, "Daddy do you have bad gas?" To which my husband proudly responded, "Yep! Sometimes."

"And I get really mad if daddy has bad gas, " I added.

By this point my nephews are rolling with laughter. Jacob goes back and forth trying to get reassurance that we do not have bad gas, the humor of the situation lost to him. Finally the conversation ends with Jacob saying, "Whew...I hope I never get bad gas!"

So if you happen to see me at the pump and Jacob is with me, don't be surprised if he leans out the window and yells, "Mommy, make sure you don't get bad gas!" Or better yet, maybe I will just let that job fall to my husband.

The Meltdown

I should have known it was coming. You could feel the tension in the air. It was inevitable that there would be an explosion of emotions. The night was far from great. In fact, it was awful. And I wish I could have prevented it, but the meltdown occurred.

The meltdown was like so many in the past. There were tears. There was yelling. There was feelings of rage and anger. There was one difference. This time the meltdown was mine. I own this one.

The day wasn't particularly bad in anyway. Everything was running like a well oiled machine, until Jacob stepped in the door after baseball practice tonight at 6:45. Stepped isn't exactly the right word. More like ran in guns blazing. He was fired up and I didn't have any idea what was about to go down. I knew from his footsteps that he was upset.

"Mommy, I am not eating that goulash!" Well, that explained it. It was about dinner. Suddenly Jacob has became pickier than ever when it comes to food. I knew when making the goulash this afternoon that he wouldn't eat it, but figured he would eat some chicken nuggets or a sandwich instead.

"Jacob, you don't have to eat it. You can have nuggets or a ham sandwich."

"NO! I want macaroni and cheese!" he demanded yelling at me. "Make it now!"

Again I tried patiently to reason with him hoping to ward off any impending meltdown, but I could tell we were already beyond that. Jacob proceeded to pick up the goulash and tried to throw it in the garbage. At this point I had already had enough. I took the goulash from him, filled myself and the baby girl a plate, and sat down to eat determined to ignore him hoping it would fizzle out. My husband walked in from returning from practice, and he was immediately sucked into the drama. With Jacob there is no way not to get sucked in. He is relentless. My meal was far from pleasant as he continued to cry, yell and scream about the dinner choice. At one point he even tried to remove my plate from in front of me.

"She is only thinking of herself, you, and the baby sister and not me!" he told my husband.

I knew I was at a breaking point. I was trying to be apathetic about the situation, but like I said, it is about impossible not to get sucked in. Jacob is good at baiting you and reeling you in before you even realize it is happening. Jacob continued to rant and rage all the while the rest of us were attempting to eat our dinner. He went back and forth from tears to anger still demanding macaroni and cheese.

Just as each child with Asperger's is different, there meltdowns are different as well. Jacob's tend to go on and on for hours. When they are done you feel as if you have been beaten with a wet stick drained of any emotion. For Jacob they seem to come in waves. He will go for long periods of time with no meltdowns or fits of any kind, and then you would think World War 3 was going on with the way they happen so frequently. Typically his meltdowns go back and forth with anger and sadness where he is feeling sorry for himself. During those times he will sometimes reach out wanting to be held, but soon the anger will continue.  He is extremely impulsive and irrational during a meltdown. There is hitting and kicking. Many times we have to physically restrain him so he doesn't hurt us or himself. We try to get him to his room so his sister doesn't have to witness the meltdown, hoping some time alone will help him calm down. Most of the time that requires us sitting in his room with our backs against the door to prevent him from getting out. He's been known to try to run from the house to which we have had to put chain locks on all of our doors. The entire time during the meltdown he is talking nonstop arguing his point better than any defense attorney in the state. And don't even think about trying to get your own words in. There is no hearing or listening during this time. Just a never ending looping conversation that eventually makes your head start to spin. Afterwards comes the remorse and the promises of never doing it again.

Usually when Jacob is having an episode, I hold it together for the most part. My husband and I typically take turns dealing with it, trying to give the other some relief. Tonight I just had enough. When he started going on and on about how I was the meanest mommy in the world, I just couldn't sit and listen anymore. I apologized to my husband and went to my room to have my own meltdown. I laid in bed crying listening to the rain hit the windows. Yes, it was my pity party. As I laid there I envisioned other families enjoying dinner together talking about the days events. I pictured them afterwards playing a game, or sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn watching a movie as they laughed together. And then as the night wore down they snuggled in bed reading their favorite books before soundly drifting off to bed.

Don't get me wrong. We have those moments, too. And I know not everyone's life is full of roses. And of course every child has their days regardless of Aspergers. But we have many of those days. Tonight was my pity party, and I will move on. As strong as I try to be, sometimes it just becomes too much to bear and I break.

As I laid in bed crying, I heard the bedroom door open. I wasn't surprised to see Jacob standing there. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Mommy." Usually when he begins to be remorseful, the meltdown is close to ending. I pulled myself together and went out to help him find some dinner. At this point the clock said 7:45. Had it really only been an hour? It felt like an eternity.

I am guessing his meltdown had little to do with the goulash. I am guessing there is something deeper bothering my son that has yet to surface. He is so on edge and it doesn't take much to set him off these days. But I'll continue to ride the waves of his meltdowns and I know at some point the sea will calm down again, if only for a while.

The ol' Curveball

Just when I think I have my son figured out he throws me a curveball.

This morning he announced, "This is going to be the best day ever!" I was thrilled for his enthusiasm, but skeptical since I knew what the day entailed. Jacob has a field trip this morning. In fact, as I am writing this I am guessing he and my husband are bouncing up and down on the packed bus full of first graders. Then this afternoon he has an eye appointment where they will be dilating his eyes, which he has been dreading for months.

If you remember, Jacob had a field trip last month and we opted for him to stay home. He was stressed about the bus ride being loud, and from past experiences I knew how stressful it can be for him. Plus the field trip was to a puppet show that featured a witch. Not good for Jacob. But this time was to a children's art studio. Jacob loves drawing, and he had been there before, so I knew once there he would enjoy himself. But there is always the bus ride that brings about anxiety. I didn't say much leading up to this morning. I had kept it low key hoping to downplay the experience. Naturally, I was shocked when he made his proclamation of it being the best day ever! Had he forgotten what the day entailed?

He went on to tell me how trying new things was a good idea. *gasp* Did my son really just say that? I've been preaching that for years, and it hasn't made an impact. Then he wanted to know why he hadn't went on the last field trip. Hmmm....really? How soon you forget my lovely son the tears and your steadfast resistance against the field trip. I believe I was all for it! "Where was this coming from?" I thought.

"Amy said that the field trip was a lot of fun and she wished I was there." Ahh....Amy. That explains a lot. Amy is his best friend at the moment and Jacob's social world revolves around her. He becomes slightly obsessed with his friends and for the last few months it has been all about Amy. I am thinking of having Amy over to explain some other concepts I have been trying to get through to Jacob.

I left my son at school this morning the happiest I have seen him in months. Usually school drop off is met with opposition and is a struggle for both of us. This morning he was beaming. I had been dreading drop off ever since I heard about the field trip and it went nothing as envisioned. I think Jacob just likes to keep his mama on her toes.

The day is just beginning, but I am hoping for Jacob that it is indeed the best day ever. But knowing that the day has many deviations from his normal routine, my guard won't be down until my head hits my pillow. If I know Jacob and his love for baseball, I'm sure there is another curveball coming. But I'll be ready, and I'll hit it out of the park!

What's Gonna Work? Teamwork!

My husband had disappeared. Here we were last night having a bonfire with our family and friends, and my husband was no where to be found. Most everyone had left for the night and it was just my neighbors and I sitting around the fire, when I asked if anyone had seen him. No one had for a while, so I went in the house to investigate. I found him sitting on the edge of Jacob's bed trying to comfort him as Jacob wept. It was almost 11:00 and I had put my son to bed over an hour ago. What had happened in that time to make my son so upset?

Our day had been a busy one. A day that Jacob had been counting down to for well over a month. His grandparents were coming to our house on their way home from their winter vacation. Our plan was to have dinner with his grandparents and his aunt, uncle, and cousins, and afterwards have a bonfire with family and friends. In Jacob's mind it was a party. Usually events like this, although small, can get to be too much for Jacob and he starts slowly melting down by the end of the evening. But he was doing awesome playing flashlight tag outside with all the neighborhood kids. Typically Jacob's bedtime is 8:30, and we are pretty strict about it knowing that Jacob needs his sleep. But last night he was acting great. No meltdowns, no tattling, just having fun. As time got away from me, I let his bedtime slide, not wanting to end his fun night by having him lay in bed hearing his friends continuing their fun outside. And so at 10:00, as he sat beside me by the fire, I could see his eyes were sleepy. I suggested bed, and surprisingly it came with little resistance. I tucked him in, and he turned over on his tummy before I had even made it to the door. I assumed he was out.

That was until I went searching for my husband. There was my sweet boy sobbing away. "What's going on?" I asked knowing that usually any worries Jacob has tend to come out at night. Night time is when I find out what is really weighing heavy on my son's mind. Tonight it was a fear for his friend, our neighbor boy who is a couple years older than Jacob. Our neighbor is much more of a dare devil than Jacob, and likes to ride in his little sister's plastic car down our street. He positions himself at the top of the hill and rides the little red car to the end. Jacob has been watching this for weeks, and every time he sees him doing it, he will yell out the window, "Stop doing that! That's not safe!". I agree, it probably isn't safe. And usually it opens up a conversation about each family having their own set of rules, and that his parents will tell him not to do it if they are uncomfortable with it. But last night it was more than just a little worry for Jacob. He was insisting that the little red car be hidden away so his friend could no longer take his joy ride down the hill. Seeing that my husband had it under control I left to go back outside figuring Jacob would soon be asleep.

As I returned to my neighbors, the other moms mentioned to me how their own kids have many anxieties and worries as well. I know that they were meaning to make me feel better by not making Jacob's reaction so alarming. It is normal for kids to have worries. The difference is, most kids you can reason with and the worry is quickly brushed aside after a short conversation. That's not the case for us with Jacob. Usually it will go on for hours escalating to a point of exhaustion for everyone. And when my husband didn't join us, I knew that things were only getting worse inside. But then there was my husband walking out the front door. "Ah, it was over," I remember thinking prematurely, because right on his heals was Jacob. In my husband's hand was a deflated red playground ball. He proceeded to show Jacob how it wouldn't roll. Before I could ask any questions, they were heading back inside.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I went inside to check out the situation. Things had indeed escalated. Jacob was now panicky. No longer was he just crying, but you could hear the sheer terror he was experiencing in his voice. My husband was beat, and with good reason. From experience I knew how exhausting these talks can be. It was my turn now. I tried getting Jacob to lay down and I slowly rubbed his back. I knew that the day and night had been too much for him. He was overwhelmed. Although his body was worn out, his mind just couldn't stop. We get that a lot at night from him. He will tell us his brain keeps telling him to do things. As much as I tried to console him, it wasn't working. No longer was he just upset about the little red car, but now also about balls rolling into the street and kids being in the street in general. He had demanded that my husband flatten every ball in our house. For a little boy who loves sports, that was a big demand and showed how truly terrified he was at the moment.

Jacob was still beside himself, crying and insisting we move to a new house. He needed out! He didn't want to live on a hill! He was like a wild animal unsure of his escape. Somehow I convinced him to come lay in my bed. I turned on one of his favorite shows, and slowly I heard his breathing start to return to normal. It didn't take long for his eyes to close and he was out. He slept fitfully for a while there beside me, until my husband took him to his own bed.

When I woke this morning I was still tired from the last night's events. My wonderful husband had let me sleep in, although I'm sure he was much more tired than I considering he came to bed quite late. I glanced to my dresser where we have a whiteboard that says "I love you because...". In our crazy life we sometimes get too busy to tell each other the little things we love about each other, so we have started leaving love notes. My husband had written, "I love you because...you take the time to try to understand our son!" I picked up the black dry erase marker and wrote, "and so do you!" It takes both of us as a team. Together we will solve the puzzle.

As I finish writing my note my husband opens the door and I am thankful to hear Jacob hasn't mentioned the night before. All balls are still bouncing in our house for now.

No Green Day!

St. Patrick's Day is here and I just got a text from my husband that my son is the only one not dressed in green at his social skills class that is meeting this morning.When I helped him pick out his clothes this morning, he wanted to wear his new shirt of his favorite major league baseball team, and I agreed it was a good choice. I admit, I didn't give it much thought. Not that I didn't know today's date. Probably because my son owns nothing green and for good reason.

When he was three and in his original preschool class, they were learning about colors this week back in March. Each day a new color was to be celebrated and the child was to wear that color and also bring a small item to place in the color jar. "Green Day" was to coincide with St. Patrick's Day. Each day I dressed him in the appropriate color and sent him off with his treasure for the jar. When it came to the day to wear green, he absolutely refused. He was not in any way going to wear green or put his item in the jar. At the time we did not have a diagnosis, and being a first time mom with my child in preschool for the first time I didn't dare break the "rules". Knowing what I know now about Jacob, I wouldn't have pressed the green shirt issue, but at the time I wrestled him to the ground determined to get his little green shirt on his body as he kicked and screamed.

We took off for school with his green item, an Easter egg, in his little Diego backpack. I left him there perplexed about the morning's events but thinking "Green Day" was behind us. When I picked him up that day, I found him sitting at his usual spot alone at the table while the other kids were finishing up with circle time. When he saw me he started to cry, and his teacher stepped outside to fill me in on the day. Jacob hadn't participated in anything that day. He refused to put his item in the jar, had a hard time in gym class during the parachute, and really didn't partake at all. We left, with me carrying my crying son to the car, and all he kept telling me was he wanted to take off that green shirt.

Since this was pre-diagnosis, it was all strange to me. What kid cares about a shirt color? And why couldn't he simply drop his item in the big color jar like the rest of the kids? And who doesn't like the parachute? I lived for that day in gym class as a child!

But like so many other warning signs at the time, I brushed it aside to him having a bad day. The green shirt was washed and hung in his closet never to be worn again. I tried to put it on him, and each time he became upset. Maybe it brought back reminders of that day at school.

The next year I naively assumed things would be different. Jacob had been at his new school for almost a year at that point in the peer model program for social issues, and was flourishing. I hadn't forgotten "Green Day" from the year before, but I assumed Jacob's four year old mind had. Of course, it hadn't and again he refused to wear a green shirt. This year I knew better and just let it go.

Every year since then I haven't mentioned wearing green on St. Patrick's Day. Today my son is in blue and if he comes home and wants something green like the rest of his class, I will help him figure something out. But maybe St. Patrick's Day is a reminder for him of a time where he felt really alone and misunderstood. And maybe it is a reminder for me of a day I want to forget as well. No mother wants to remember her child sitting alone at a preschool table unsure how to join the rest of the class while the others are singing bible songs. But instead, maybe I could look at it as a milestone of how far we have come. All of us. We have all grown in the past three years.