A Gift From My Son

Flowers from my mother's yard. Courtesy of Alex, my miracle from Russia. It was a day where the kids rode scooters
over to my mothers' former house (she lives with us now). First thing Alex went out and picked all the dandelions
and other yellow flowers. He then raced into the house to find something to put them in. Daria was kind of in a daze while he raced around. Alex bounced out of the house, insisted that
I come in and admire and then away he went to play the day away while I toiled in the house.

That is my Alex – a sweetie in thorned garb. Every day he teaches me something new about being human. I think that our kids bring us back to reality. They bring us back to
the reality seen before we all buy the societal blah, blah, blah and become functional adults.

Just this week he showed me that again. On Tuesday he had a day that the school pretty much rated him as a total failure behavior-wise. When I stopped by to pick him up for a evaluation concerning emotional age (we are re-doing this one at the Children’s Hospital),
he was outside with the principal. He was escalated. It had been a bad day. And then we got in the car. We talked as my Mom drove.

Then he did the evaluation with the psychologists. It was hours long. I told them as I left the room about his day and the state I found him in. There were no problems during testing. He was
easily redirectable and a “joy” to work with.

That is the kid I generally now know.

My son a “joy” for someone else. Imagine. The doctors could not see what the school saw
earlier in the day. That is what I have heard a lot from both myself and other specialists when faced with school complaints.

And then I got it. Alex escalates when he is unsafe. He still harbors fear when separated from me and that increases dramatically when left in the care and/or supervision of men. Any man.
It does not matter to Alex – they are not safe. On Tuesday, his female teacher was out sick
and the three teaching assistants are male. And one has a really harsh tone when he yells at Alex from across the room. Go figure. It’s a wonder Alex didn’t start walking home.

Alex still lives in the reality that we as adults unconsciously or sometimes consciously reorder in our minds so as to continue to function. We adults blur the safety line to get through a job or uncomfortable situation. I find myself often feeling like I compromise my mental safety these days in advocating for Alex and even sometimes Daria. The people I have to talk to for them in the school systme make even me feel unsafe.

Alex cannot compromise his need to feel safe with the pressure to be socially acceptably compliant. And I think he has the right of it. He does fine, he just does not do the silly, and threatening stuff the rest of us have been taught to endure. I cannot ask him to do different. I did ask the doctors to help him learn coping skills when dealing with other people’s lacks.

They are going to work on it. Personally, I will not attempt to undo that part for him. Simply because he is right. He is still a child that sees the wrong of it all. I remember how I once
saw the world like that too. I would give my son more time to live as a fully actualized human being that still does not see the value in compromising pieces of one’s soul for societal
acceptance.

Instead I enjoy the son that brings me flowers. I treasure this miracle from Russia. He is a miracle. And I will try and remember that even when I call him to dinner or redirect him to a chore and he he tells me for the hundredth time to “just wait one more minute.” Whoever taught him that response at school has my serious ire. He is currently saying it for everything – even when he has to pee.

Gotta love the kid.