“I’m sorry ma’am but your son is licking my arm floats” . . .

It’s been a long time coming, this post. Geez, it’s already October (my birth month btw) and we’re back from summer vacation and have started a new school AND a new after-school program and, oh my (!), so many things have happened and I have not sat down to write until now!! I’ve wanted to of course and I kept noting posts in my head after every single event, dramatic mostly, but either it’s because I couldn’t find the time or just plain lazy. But, lazy is the only adjective I would definitely not use right about now in my life, our lives. We’re all doing so much.

I have joined a kickboxing academy, have taken up yoga and go running at the break of dawn!! That plus work and the always demanding but gratifying job of being a mommy to my wonderful kiddos is no small feat! Hubby has stepped up to the plate a bit . . . but just that. He’s the baby ‘sitter’, the kind that tells the kids what to do while on the net or watching TV and driver still, no word yet on when he’ll start reading bedtime stories and helping around the house on big-boy chores like emptying the dishwasher. Semi-rant there, duly noted.

So, I’m going to start with our summer vacay. We went to hubby’s sea-side village and it was really lovely. For the first time in years I actually feel like I vacationed. I don’t know what it was . . . it was just serene. Everything was calm. I think it was me. No seriously. No stress, no SELF-pressure for everything to go smoothly and be the picture-perfect family and it just was. We didn’t pressure Panayioti, we let him be. If he wsummer pic 1anted to lay in the sand right after his dip he could. Why not, right? If he wanted to wiggle his hands really close to his face and make noise we let him. We didn’t pressure him. We guided him. We love him and we showed it in every way possible and we didn’t freak out over little things like if he grabbed some kid’s arm floats and licked them. Which by the way, I’m not really sure he did. I’m pretty sure he just sniffed them. That neurotypical kid must’ve lied. Oh well.

P is doing another year of kindergarten this year at a special-ed public school. The night before the first day all the parents were out on their balconies in our neighborhood and I could hear them chatting about if they bought the right number of notebooks and pencils and so on and so on. The majority of kids on our block are P’s age, first-graders. But P is not in first-grade and this made me really sad. Sad and a bit jealous. Ok, a lot jealous. Why can’t my kid go to first grade this year like he’s supposed to? And at a typical school. Why does he have to go to a special-ed school that happes to be housed at an institution for the severely mentally handicapped even though he’s clearly not?! Ugh! I’m getting upset just conjuring up all these feelings again because I truly think that this was our first shock, bigger shock than the Autism diagnosis even because that I could feel was coming. This though was different. In any case, there are many downsides financially attached to this school like no cleaning ladies and no microwaves and no school bus -there’s no money- but the director is a stong-willed woman who has given he heart and soul to this school and the other kids in his class are all at the high-functioning end of the spectrum. Much more so than P, which is disappointing taking into consideration all the therapies we’ve done over these past 4+ years!!

So, this is what we’ve been up to, in a nutshell. No spoken words yet but much, much better eye contact. And many, many smiles and hugs from P. He’s happy, and that’s all I ever wanted. Oh, and I must add that my son is going to be a great basketball player some day 🙂bball

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