Presents
and toys, birthday badges and party invites.
Balloons
and banners, fancy dress outfits and homemade cakes.
Silly
games of pin the tail on the donkey, musical statues, and ‘who’s the best
dancer?’
A
hot sweaty house full of giddy kids high on fizzy pop, cup-cakes and E-numbers.
Class
friends having a ball as they fling themselves around on an oversized Minion
bouncy castle.
And my son laughing and smiling in the
middle of it all.
The
playground mums huddled around a table laughing and gossiping about the antics
of the chair of the PTA at last week’s school disco.
Enjoying
a glass of wine and picking at posh nibbles whilst declaring that the diet starts
tomorrow.
We
air kiss as they leave, and we plan to arrange our next coffee morning with a text
tomorrow as they walk down the driveway and clamber into their family cars.
I
collapse in a heap on the sofa happily content as I watch him delve into his
pile of pressies. Filled with a sense of relief that he has enjoyed all the
fuss and that everyone had turned up.
This is what birthdays are all about for kids, aren’t they? We plan lavish events that make us go overdrawn just so we
can boast about having the mobile Zoo at the local church hall for our little
kiddo’s special day.
Unwritten protocol states that we have to invite the whole
class to the party, even the ones we don’t really want to be there.
And then on the big day we pack our kids off to school wearing
a flashing birthday badge holding a bag of goodies for them to hand out at the
end of the school day.
Well at least this is what I used to think my son’s birthday
would look like when I daydreamed about his future all those years ago.
In fact 12 years ago this very day… I was pacing the floor
of the maternity ward waiting anxiously for the surgeon to give us the all
clear to go down to theatre for my planned C-section.
I was 38 weeks pregnant, tired and hungry. But none of that mattered
as were hours away from meeting our little baby boy. I couldn’t wait to hold
him in my arms and my mind was full of all the possibilities that lay ahead.
Where have the years gone? I for one am not the same person I was back
then. And my little baby boy is now on the cusp of adulthood. Today my gorgeous
smiley little man turned 12.
I quickly learned as my son was growing up that birthdays
for him would not look like the images I had created in my mind. Don’t get me
wrong I tried. For many years I forced him to conform to my idea of what his birthday
should look like. I booked the church halls, invited the class and made the
cakes.
But my son would cry, he would not want to join in and he wouldn’t
want to open his presents. Then the invitations stopped coming his way, and the
mums in the playground did not become the friends I had once expected they
would.
We had become the ones that weren’t invited and those that
did try to invite us didn’t know what to say to me when I had to make excuses
for him not being able to go. When I would ask for the exact itinerary of the afternoon’s
events, or even worse when he would get upset and cry in front of all his
friends, they would look at me with a puzzled sort of confusion that I will
never forget.
But I have adapted. I have had to learn that my idea of a
perfect birthday isn’t the same as my sons.
So there may not have been a cake in sight today, or a donkey
pinned on my living room wall for that matter. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t had a nice day! He tucked into his
favourite food for his tea with one of his closest friends, played multiplayer
on his PS4 and snaffled down a whole chocolate brownie with delight.
There was no flashing birthday badge pinned to his school
jumper or treat size chocolates being sent into his school this morning. But that’s OK! He woke up and his smile
melted my heart. He enjoyed his birthday croissants and cup of tea whilst
reading the texts from his family giggling at the lovely messages they had sent
him.
There was no giant bouncy castle or dainty cupcakes today. But I’m OK with that because he was. He
has bounced on his trampoline, snuggled in his new sleeping bag and brushed the
salty popcorn out of his teeth with his new vibrating toothbrush (for longer than
he’s ever brushed his teeth before… bonus).
The process of learning to accept this difference hasn’t been an easy
one I have to be honest with you. Sometime I have pangs of thinking “if only”...but
then I see his happy face, and get such joy from seeing him flapping with excitement as he slides into
his new sleeping bag - and those feelings slip away to be replaced with all-consuming
pride. His joy of life is infectious at times like this.
So now I find myself giggling at the things I wrap up as
presents sometimes (ice pops, popcorn and shaving foam spring to mind). But it’s
what my son loves. It what makes him tick so why not?
And part of my journey as a mother is learning that my son’s
journey is his own. It’s not mine, I am merely along for the ride. Its his day, not mine.
So this weekend instead of booking a mobile Zoo for the whole class, I am taking my little man to his favourite Zoo for the day. So he can spend 9 hours doing what he loves surrounded by his favourite animals. Free, happy, flapping and loving life!
Unwritten protocol, having to do what others think you should, giddy kids high on sweets and a mountain of crappy presents that you end up donating to the Christmas fair kinda go out of the window when you have a child with autism, and I FOR ONE AM GLAD OF IT!
Happy birthday darling boy xx
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