I'm jealous of my son's school. Of the teachers, paras, aides, lunch ladies... every damned one of them who see him day in and day out. Why, you might ask?
Because some days I feel like that school gets to see the best of my son.
School is highly regimented and Morgan loves rules. He thrives on them. The color code system of behavior is something he responds well to and he wants his peers to think well of him. At school, he is, I think, "on."
"Morgan held the door open for me today, I just had to tell you that!" "Oh, you're Morgan's mom? He's such a darlin'!" "Morgan's so funny, such a rule follower!"
Yes, he is all of those things. At school.
At home, 80% of the time, he's those things, too. But since he's in his safety zone, he feels free to fully melt down. To lash out. At me. And that hurts me. Literally.
I love my son and I have no doubt that he loves me. We tell each other that constantly and hug a lot.
He loves me so much that I am the person he feels the most comfortable lashing out physically at and then comes to me, while I'm still shaking, and needs to be rocked.
It's rare, but it happens. We both cry, shocked that this swirling dervish has just consumed him again out of no where, but it came from somewhere, as we both know. We try to calm ourselves, him first, me later, and press on.
This is trust, this lashing out only at me, I've been told. I'm thankful it doesn't happen to anyone else, but I'm resentful that no one else "gets" it.
Weekends are different. He loves his train movies and going places- freedom.
But during the week? I'm nervous for the landmines that I could trip on.
And it's not his fault, nor mine.
I love my child, autism and all.
This is hard.