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Finding Awesome

Finding Awesome

By Mir Kamin

The thing about special needs parenting is that, on some level, you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop. At least that’s been my experience, and the experience of most of the families I know who deal with similar issues. There’s the stress-and-worry times when things are decidedly unwell, and even the happy-and-progressing times are shadowed (at least a little) by the unspoken, “But how long can this last?”

It’s been a full month since my autistic son embarked on his public high school career, and we’re still waiting for that shoe to drop. Yes, we planned it all out; yes, he’s only doing half-days for this transitional semester; yes, he’s come so far and learned so much and become so much more flexible than we’d ever dreamed he could be, back in the early days when multiple daily meltdowns were our reality. All of this is true. Still, could school for him just be… y’know… awesome?

Me, I’m a realist. (Okay, many close to me would probably say cynic. Same thing, right?) I know there will be bumps in the road. There will never be a point, I don’t think, where I’ll fully exhale, dust off my hands, and declare to no one in particular, “Well, that’s that. This kid is all squared away, never to encounter a challenge again.” Life isn’t like that, for anyone. For a kid with additional issues, that goes double. So it’s not that I think we will never again find ourselves in an IEP meeting discussing some problem that I never in a million years would’ve even surmised existed before this life with my kids. I know that hurdles will come along.

On the other hand, I pick my son up every day and get a little zingy thrill, every day, as we ride home and he tells me about his time at school. It’s not because his grades are good (they are) or because he loves it (he does), it’s because my son has grown comfortable in his own skin. Every story he tells me, every anecdote about his day which he relates, resonates for me with a central theme: He’s okay being him. In our world, this is huge. Sure, my son’s autism has presented him with all of the usual challenges of black-and-white thinking, a somewhat obsessive need for predictable routine, and difficulty dealing with sensory overload—these are all typical for a person with Asperger’s—but as the years went on, we came to see that his biggest challenge wasn’t his autism, per se. It was that he had very low self esteem. He wasn’t comfortable being himself. He felt like everything he did was wrong and everyone was always judging him. We spent a lot of time untangling whether a meltdown was triggered by an unacceptable external condition or the conviction that his difficulty with said condition was causing him to feel disliked or inadequate in some way. It’s hard (maybe impossible) to be happy when you don’t like yourself.

The young man before me now isn’t a different person than he used to be; he’s still everything I’ve always loved about him (and a few habits I don’t, but that’s okay), still the same person who is quirky and different and often stands out. What is different now is that he knows this, but it’s fine with him.

Don’t ask me how we got him here. There’s been a lot of hard work—therapies, skills building, practice—and a lot of love, sure. The passage of time and the natural maturation process has helped, too. But maybe we’re just lucky. I don’t know.

One day he settled into the car with a heavy sigh.

“Uh oh,” I said. “What’s wrong?” I braced. Here was the other shoe, surely.
“Well,” he said. “I think I said something in class today I shouldn’t have.” My mind raced through the possibilities. Had he been rude to the teacher and felt terrible? Did the other kids make fun of him?
“Oh?” I responded, keeping my voice casual. “What happened?”
“Well, this kid was really bothering me, tapping on my seat and poking at me, and he wouldn’t stop even though I asked him several times.” He paused, and again my mind raced away. What did he do? How big of a disaster was this? “So finally I just turned around and said to him, ‘Are you on crack?'”
He grinned. It was okay.
“Oh, dear,” I said. “Then what happened?”
“Then all the other kids laughed at him and he stopped,” he said, breaking into a full laugh. I joined him, but then thought of something.
“Did the teacher hear you?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah, she did,” he said, turning somber again.
“What did she say?” I asked, tensing up.
“She said… that it’s not appropriate to ask people if they’re on crack, even if you strongly suspect that they are,” he reported. We laughed all the way home. (I love this teacher.)

A few days ago, he swung his backpack into the car and plopped down and said, “Oh, I have to tell you something that happened today.” Again, I tensed up, but put the car into gear and pulled out, waiting for him to continue. “So today I was being a little silly and this kid was all, ‘What is wrong with you?'” Oh, oh no. My heart constricted. “So I just said, ‘A lot of things!'” He paused to laugh, and I remembered to breathe.
“Oh, that’s good, honey. Did he leave you alone after that?”
“Not exactly. He got a little closer and said, ‘Are you retarded?'” Oh, man. Ack. That word is banned in our household as worse than any possible curse word, and this couldn’t have ended well. Could it?
“And you said…?” I was afraid of the answer.
“I just said, ‘Probably!’ and everyone laughed and he wandered off.”

He never could’ve handled this stuff, in the past. It would’ve wounded him to the core, leaving him lashing out and self-loathing and unable to cope. Now, he rolls with it, because he is who he is, and he knows it, and no one is taking that away from him. This kid has mastered at 14 what some of us never learn in an entire lifetime.

I hope to be even half as amazing as he is, someday.

Published February 4, 2014. Last updated February 4, 2014.
About the Author

Mir Kamin

Mir Kamin began writing about her life online over a decade ago, back when she was a divorced mom trying to raise two regular little kids and figure out what she wanted to be when she grew up. Now ...

Mir Kamin began writing about her life online over a decade ago, back when she was a divorced mom trying to raise two regular little kids and figure out what she wanted to be when she grew up. Now her life looks very different than it did back then: Those little kids turned into anything-but-regular teenagers, she is remarried, and somehow she’s become one of those people who talks to her dogs in a high-pitched baby voice. Along the way she’s continued chronicling the everyday at Woulda Coulda Shoulda, plus she’s bringing you daily bargain therapy at Want Not. The good news is that Mir grew up and became a writer and she still really likes hanging out with her kids; the bad news is that her hair is a lot grayer than it used to be.

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  • One month in | Woulda Coulda Shoulda

    February 4, 2014 at 12:45 pm

    […] course, today I decided that that was just plain silly, and I went over to Alpha Mom and wrote all about how my baby is finding his awesomeness, which OF COURSE meant that I then got a phone call from school that MAH BAYBEE had become […]

  • Jean

    February 4, 2014 at 1:13 pm

    He is amazing. That is all.

  • Aimee

    February 4, 2014 at 1:17 pm

    Oh man. That kid IS awesome!!!

  • Sarah B.

    February 4, 2014 at 1:33 pm

    These stories give me hope for my own kid in the fall! Thanks so much for sharing.

  • RuthWells

    February 4, 2014 at 1:35 pm

    I am SO glad to hear these stories about Monkey. Remembering how, years ago, I was sure that the day would come when he’d grow into himself and the daily struggles would get easier…. I am very full of told-you-so! In the best way, of course.

  • Billie

    February 4, 2014 at 1:40 pm

    Yep, he’s AWESOME!

    I will be sharing those come-backs to my almost 14yo who gets asked those same questions quite frequently. 🙂

  • Js

    February 4, 2014 at 1:46 pm

    That was a huge punch in the heart, the whole way through.

  • Hally

    February 4, 2014 at 1:52 pm

    Viva Monkey!

  • el-e-e

    February 4, 2014 at 2:19 pm

    brings me to tears, that last part. Amazing kid! <3

  • Lily

    February 4, 2014 at 2:22 pm

    Monkey is really cool!

  • Jamie

    February 4, 2014 at 2:23 pm

    Yay, Monkey!!!

  • Stimey

    February 4, 2014 at 2:33 pm

    Your kid rocks. I’m so happy to read this.

  • Brigitte

    February 4, 2014 at 2:51 pm

    When Monkey invents time travel, I’d like him to come to my childhood and be my mentor, please. 😉

  • Stephanie

    February 4, 2014 at 3:54 pm


  • not supergirl

    February 4, 2014 at 4:13 pm

    That takes some bigtime comfort with yourself and also really good social awareness to pull off. I’m so impressed. Monkey wins high school.

  • Crista

    February 4, 2014 at 5:15 pm Mir!  I have goosebumps.  Dare I say that all of your hard work is paying off?  WOW.  I can’t believe that he just brushes this stuff off with witty comebacks.  Amazing.  So happy for all of you!

  • Melody

    February 4, 2014 at 6:54 pm

    I’ve followed your blog for a while, and now we’re starting our own journey with Asperger’s with my son.  This made me cry happy tears for you and Monkey.  I hope my little man will do just as well some day!

  • Chris G

    February 4, 2014 at 7:57 pm


    It’s so unbelievable when the stars align and all it right with the world for even just that moment.  Cheers for you and Monkey.  You have done some hard work parenting both of your children and I am glad you can smile and reap rewards now and then.  Helping kids find their independence and seeing it happen is like finally thinking that perhaps something you did made a difference.  The difference here is your deep love for your family.  You are very dedicated…not perfect that would never work.  It makes my spirit happy to know that all is right with Monkeys world.

  • ML

    February 4, 2014 at 8:05 pm

    At 34, I wish I could roll with it that well. Good job, Monkey!

  • NTE

    February 4, 2014 at 11:15 pm

    I like it when you have happy stories to share. I love reading them, and I’m grateful you share them with us. I’m so glad Monkey is enjoying his new school situation.

  • Lara

    February 5, 2014 at 11:15 am

    Wow! Just wow! Gives me hope for the future!

  • Katie in MA

    February 5, 2014 at 6:03 pm

    He IS awesome. And so are you. 🙂

  • Jenny

    February 6, 2014 at 9:28 am

    I can’t decide which is cooler–what Monkey said, or how his teacher responded.  Awesomeness!

  • Amanda

    February 8, 2014 at 9:31 pm

    I love this story…my own son, who is 5, was just confirmed with autism. He’s not worst case scenario, very high functioning. Glad to know there is hope for the future 🙂 thanks for sharing

  • Mona

    February 12, 2014 at 8:17 am

    Beautiful. And universal for all of us trying to handle life with grace and humor!