Today started with my 14 year old daughter making herself a peanut butter sandwich to take to school for lunch. As she reached into the cabinet to get a container, she asked her little brother to grab her a bottle of water.

Do you remember in The Sixth Sense when Haley Joel Osmet’s mom walks out of the kitchen, then returns a moment later to find all of the cabinets and drawers open? That’s what it sounded like this morning when my daughter turned back to her sandwich and found a water bottle stuck firmly into the middle of the bread.

My son just turned 11, and he is smart, so you’d think he would know better, but let’s keep in mind that this is the child who has secretly been taking pictures of people’s double-chins with my phone. I go to make a phone call and instead find 64 photos of fat necks; my own included. You don’t even want to see the search history on our iPad.

Sometimes his behavior is downright bizarre, so that’s why it was such a relief when my husband and I sat in a classroom at, what we hope will be, our son’s new school. Though I will admit, before the class started we were concerned the day would be filled with  nothing but chaos.

There was the student with personal space issues (BEEN THERE) and the other one who ran around the room only to stop and pet my husband’s jacket (BEEN THERE, TOO), one child was sleeping, and one child was rolling around in his teacher’s chair. My husband and I looked at each other with that same what are we going to do now look that we’ve given each other many times before.

But, then the class started. Though the behaviors didn’t come to a complete halt, these kids were learning and they were learning stuff that my husband and I were clueless about. No offense to Canadian geography, or anything. I couldn’t believe the difficulty of the work and I couldn’t believe how smart these kids were.

The teacher, who knew exactly what to do to get through to each individual child, had them focused, challenging themselves, taking a quiz without audible groaning, and speaking clearly as they read aloud. It was amazing to watch and I was flat-out honored for the opportunity. I wish everyone could do it. Ignorance is bliss, after all, but knowledge is power.

At one point a student raised her hand and started a sentence to her teacher by saying, “No offense, but maybe you should have…” Yeah, that whole “no-offense” thing? BEEN THERE, TOO. My son used to start most of his sentences with, “I’m sorry to say this, but…”

That’s when my husband and I looked at each other and silently thought, these are our people. And that’s a place where we’ve never really been before.

I can’t wait to see where we go next.

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So, you know how your friend’s husband dies while doing yardwork at the age of 42, then four days later the uncle whom everyone, and I mean everyone, adores passes away, and you’re mentally exhausted and you think you’ll sleep until next week, but instead you wake up at 2:25am and start asking yourself pressing questions like, “I wonder if Canadians watch reality TV?” and then you clean out your inbox, finish all your levels of Candy Crush, catch up on Words with Friends, send a Facebook update, tweet, pray, and briefly consider getting sucked back in to Draw Something before you get out of bed at 4:15 and turn on a boring documentary because you hope it will lull you to sleep, but instead it’s interesting and there are subtitles so you have to actually sit up and put your glasses on, then you finally fall asleep at 6:40 and your alarm goes off at 6:55, then 90 minutes after you drop your kids off at school your son’s teacher calls and says to come pick him up AGAIN because this time he tried to climb over a pew during mass, and that afternoon you have to drive your daughter to a softball game on the other side of the earth, then you go to a memorial dinner for your cousin who died last fall and you burst into tears during the Irish Blessing, and ohmygoodness why won’t people stop dying, then you get home and are REALLY emotionally exhausted and can only think about one thing, which is collapsing into your wonderful bed, and then your son walks up and says, “Mom, I think I have strep again”?

Yeah, me too.

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I once read that kids with PDD-NOS “…don’t understand why things are wrong, that they are wrong, what affect they may have on others, or how their actions can make others feel.” I copied these words down for myself, but I didn’t note the author, so I can’t give credit where credit is due. My husband will probably tell you that I do that a lot. Not the stealing quotes part, but the not giving credit thing. In my defense, washing the dishes once per week does not a kitchen-helper make. I digress.

My 10 year old son has PDD-NOS. This stands for Pervasive Developmental Disorder, Not Otherwise Specified, which can also be called sub-threshold autism, or autism spectrum disorder, or GOOD HEAVENS WHAT IS GOING ON WITH OUR CHILD RIGHT NOW? We’ve called it all of those things at one time or another.

The fact is, no matter what you call it, it’s a disability. My son’s brain does not function like a typical child’s brain. He does not understand social cues, he has a hard time understanding figurative language, he exhibits repetitive behaviors, and he exhibits repetitive behaviors. See what I did there? He can also become easily frustrated. Though, I could say the same about my 14 year old daughter. *crosses arms* *rolls eyes*

For the past seven years we have been trying to mainstream this very non-mainstream child. We felt that our small school, with a focus on Christian values was just the right place for him to get not only an education, but also the love and support of our church family. But, I don’t think we can try to force this square peg into a round hole any longer.

We can not snap our fingers and have him suddenly be free of his issues. We can neither employ the same techniques used with other kids, nor expect the same results. He is a unique individual and he needs a unique plan and the comfort of being in a place where he, and his intentions, are not misunderstood.

It is not an easy decision to remove your child from the school where he’s spent almost half his life. It’s hard to turn away from the families and teachers who have supported us, but I want him to be in a place where he doesn’t stand out or get called out. For once, I want him to be the typical kid.

So, if you need me, I’ll be doing some research and lots of paperwork. I think we have a move to make.

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My son and I went for a walk last night.

We talked a lot while we were strolling. He likes to talk. One of his favorite things to do is plop down next to you, wherever you are, and ask, “So, what do you want to talk about?” He gets his chattiness from me, for certain. Lately our conversations are all about his behavior and it’s not a pleasant topic, so last night I tried to let him enjoy himself without discussing, what has become, this disruption in our lives.

standing atop the roots of his favorite tree

We didn’t really know where we were walking; there was no destination in mind, no idea where we would turn off the path and exclaim, “This seems a good place to stop.” We just went where our feet took us.

We laughed at dogs playing, we talked to our neighbors, we stopped to watch the ducks swimming and get a glimpse of our reflections in the pond. We were happy. There are few things that bring me as much joy as my daughter’s laugh or an authentic smile on my son’s face.

My son wore his plaid fisherman’s hat and I carried bottle water and a chestful of overwhelming guilt and confusion. As if my own weight weren’t enough!

Our life, in this moment, bears many resemblances to walking out the front door into the unknown. Private school? Public school? Therapy? Meds? What will it take? I like to be prepared when venturing into battle and right now, well…I might as well be going up against a fire-breathing dragon armed with nothing but 16.2 ounces of spring water. But, one way or another, I will slay that sucker. You can be sure of that.

We saw some strange things on our walk; a bird’s foot, lots of goose poop, a wrapped tampon laying in the road, which is far better than an unwrapped tampon, I can assure you. And, we saw beautiful things too; like the blue sky, trees in bloom, and a man sitting on his front porch reading to his wife.

As we have for the past 11 years, we find ourselves on a journey for which we have no map. It’s hard to be lost, but I hope more than anything that my son will be smiling along the way.

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