You see, it's been a trend lately... this month especially.
Waylon, recognizing Santa for the first time.... tears.
Waylon, shouting "Hello, hello!" at the top of his lungs when Santa came into the other kids' school Christmas program... tears.
Waylon, actually interested in opening presents on Christmas morning... tears.
Waylon, turning seven today... major tears.
Travis has also learned to recognize these special moments, but I can usually see the dumbfounded deer-in-the-headlights look of, "Why are you crying again?" (He is smart enough to not say this out loud, of course.)
Well, usually I don't know why I'm crying either.
If my glass were half empty (which it's really not), they would be sad tears. That Waylon, at seven years old, an age when some kids are starting to question the truth about Santa, has just now learned who Santa even is.
If my glass were half full (which it usually is), I would be happy. They should be tears of joy that Waylon, at seven years old, is finally able to experience the Christmas season. But are they?
My glass is spilling over with I'm-about-to-have-a-baby hormones, and I don't know what kind of crazy mixed up tears these are.
I guess they are tears because Waylon, at seven years old, can't look me in the eye and say, "I love you, Mom" but he can climb up on the sofa and squeeze his little hand in mine and I can feel it.
I guess the tears could be because Waylon is the only seven year old in the audience at the school program standing on a chair yelling "Hello, hello!" like he's meeting the Big Man for the first time, and I wonder if he'll still believe when he's ten, or fifteen, or twenty.
I think I get emotional because for just a few moments on Christmas, when packages are flying and chaos is abound, our lives seem so... normal.
But today, he turns seven. And Trav sends me a text from work that says "Don't forget to focus a little extra attention on Waylon today."
I try to sing him "Happy Birthday" and he screams "STOP IT!" (One of his favorite phrases these days).
And there's the reminder that our lives are anything but normal.
I can't help it. I go through it every year, this anger and resentment that I feel when his birthday arrives and he officially falls another year behind.
And unfortunately, dwelling on the negative clouds the really awesome things that are happening right before my eyes... We had his IEP meeting this month and reviewed all of the amazing things he has learned this year. We catch him saying new words all the time. He is able to go places and do things we would have never attempted before. (We've almost conquered Wal-Mart!)
And then I remind myself of the gift I have been given- a seven-year-old who may never grow up. Who may still be yelling "Hello! Hello!" to Santa when he is fifteen. Who may still be climbing on the sofa to hold my hand when he is twenty. Who still may be ripping open a new race track on Christmas morning with sheer excitement at twenty-five.
How lucky am I?
New Years is coming, and although I need a stiff drink really bad, I also need to have a baby with a well developed, healthy brain. So I am going to raise an imaginary glass-half-full toast.
Here's to a year of progress. A year full of amazing things. The year that Waylon turned seven.
The year that Waylon met Santa.
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| We were blessed to be invited to pictures with Santa for children with special needs, sponsored by our awesome support group, the Autism Society of the Heartland. During our one-on-one time with Santa, Waylon was able to jingle his bells and climb all over him, while Santa patiently talked to Waylon about Christmas. When it was Caden and Rose Mary's turn, Santa pulled them in close and reminded them he had been watching what a great brother and sister they are for Waylon, and thanked them for all they do for Waylon all year long... Tears. |
