Dear Addie,
Even with our predictable schedule, there’s not a single day I can predict what will or will not happen. After years of wondering, denying truths and finally accepting differences through therapies and testing for a number of different things, your official diagnosis was like someone took my fine point ink drawing of what I thought your future would look like (remember I was very OCD at this time in my life), and poured a glass of water on it. I guess I can still somewhat make out what I drew, but it’s mostly smeared and blurry now.
As parents, whether we want to admit it or not, we all have preconceived visions (or drawings) of what we hope life will look like for them (and us!) as they age. Some parents use fine point pens, others maybe sharpie, crayons or washable markers - the choice of art supplies (in my mind) represents how dedicated we feel we are to that vision for our children. Whatever we may use, there they are, the portraits of our mini humans we are raising well into the future and what they may accomplish and become.
For me the contrast of fine point drawings and my water smeared masterpiece is everyday.
But I digress.
I work in a school Addie. A proud lunch lady (or kitchen wizard rather) at big brother Gabe’s school. I see every student that attends there Prek-8th, so that obviously includes a whole bunch of third graders which is your grade as well, only at a different school than you go to, and in a different academic setting better suited to your skills.
I work at a Catholic school so I’ve watched them all anxiously prepare as they proudly went through first communion.
*Us on the other hand are still hoping to one day sit in the church being less disruptive then our current status - but we know we’ll get there so we patiently wait.
I watch them all come up and give their names to me one by one to receive their lunches.
*This week we were thrilled that you were able to identify everyone in our family by name including yourself when we pointed to each - not just repeating what we said! Side note: Honestly you may always prefer to bring your lunch to school anyways. You like what you like.
I see them ask teachers if they may leave to use the restroom as they scurry off unattended obviously toilet trained.
*Your pull-ups didn’t leak causing a clothing change this week, so there’s progress there baby girl! You’ll be potty trained soon, I just know it!
I hear them at pick up talk about how much homework they have, or what someone did in class.
*You greet me everyday with the absolute biggest smile like you just couldn’t wait to see me and your teacher fills me in on the details of how your day went.
While comparison is a dangerous game sometimes It can feel like I’m looking at a lot of fine point pictures during the day. Not in a bad way, but more of wondering if this was the picture their parents thought of as their precious babies were learning to walk and talk?
This week I caught a glimpse of the picture I made in my mind all those years ago. You were sitting at the table by yourself, doing homework. On this day you didn’t wait for me, you just picked up your pencil and gave it your best shot. From a glance there was no struggles. No words needing to be broke down and no worrisome fine motor challenges -(other than your obvious pencils grasp.) Just a 3rd grader doing her homework. The scene that was in front of me (if only for a few minutes) was so routine for your neurotypical friends, that I imagined you picking up your head from your concentration asking “hey mom, what’s for dinner?”.
I would have passed out in shock mind you, but in that second, your head down, working super hard on your homework... that was a glimpse of that finer point drawing from many years ago...
Here’s the thing Addie, you are the only artist on your journey. Mommy and daddy are just museum members who support and admire your beautiful artwork - each picture of your life YOU create in its own time.
If I could give any new parent advice I would give them words spoken by your big sister Clara - “You can’t rush art.” Very wise words on life from a 14 yr old.
Addie it took a glass of water spilling on my picture to realize you’re a way better artist than I.
Keep creating your life’s masterpieces baby and we’ll keep admiring your work.
I love you Addie.
Mom
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