The Boy in His Shadow

Let's just get the Jaws theme music going again. It's sort of our family anthem.

Duh-nuh. Duh-nuh. Dun-nuh-dun-nuh-dun-nuh

Got it? Now picture walking toward my 2-year-old's room with the ominous tune going. Approaching the door, I think my happy thoughts until (pause for dramatic effect) I see it! Duh-nuh...

No, there wasn't a dead body lying in the middle of Lane's match box cars. Instead it was (pause again) a line of blocks. Yes, you heard me right: a line of blocks. Can you believe it?

Ok, clearly it's an overreaction on my part. But when kids start lining things up in this house OCD-style, I'm ready to call in the troops.

I never knew the signs of autism, or paid much attention really, when Rowen was little. Now if I see my second-born even remotely showing an autistic trait, I see it from a mile away. Hence, the overreaction. But sometimes I wonder if I should have "ridiculous over reactor" or "complete tool" written across my forehead. Ridiculous over reactor for obvious reasons from the here-to-mentioned. Complete tool from the very blatant autism traits that Lane possesses but I still have a hard time seeing.

Lane is speech delayed. This is one of the first signs of autism. Let alone the fact that he is a boy (1 in 54 boys now has autism) and that he is the sibling of a child already diagnosed (26-percent chance). He doesn't have some of the other monster signs of autism like poor eye contact or difficulty seeking affection, but then again neither did his big brother.

One of Rowen's first signs (though I didn't realize it at the time) was his aggression. At 2-years-old, putting him into a roomful of his peers was like throwing a piranha into a tank of baby gold fish. As always, my disclaimer is that he is much improved from those days, but I do see Lane following in some of those footsteps. Trouble is I can't tell if it is from imitation or something worse.

Lane bites. All kids go through a biting stage. Lane pushes. All boys are rough-and-tumble. Lane seems to be having more trouble with transitions. Don't all toddlers? Lane is also a big-time hand flapper. Well, shoot.

And of course, who can forget that I've caught him lining up his toys like a little Howie Mandel. Well, crap, that just pushes him over the edge then, right?

So what is a mom to think? I know I sound absolutely crazy to some, and to others I make perfectly crystal clear sense. I just don't know which camp I fall into.

I see Rowen struggle and I hope and pray for him as well as for Lane. This world is hard enough, let alone the isolation and difficulty that autism presents. Sometimes I just wish I had a darned crystal ball. But other days when I have more clarity (and sanity) I realize that each day with my boys is to be cherished as it is: as the crazy, my-hair-should-be-gray-soon day that it is. And with love for any which way these beautiful kids come.