Once Upon a Time

I always enjoy getting a little one-on-one time with Lane. With all the emphasis on Rowen, I often worry about how Lane might feel. I am always having to pull him away crying from all the seemingly fun things we end up doing for Rowen. Bowling, horses, and his beloved OT, Ms. Cindy's, "house" where any kid might feel they are at Disney World. Lane loves all that stuff too. We've tried hard to let him in on the fun as much as we can. He became the toddler bowling champ at Rowen's special needs league recently and he always gets a few strikes in at Ms. Cindy's veritable playground. I also signed him up for pee wee soccer and T-ball starting in May.

Today I took Lane to OSU to take part in a study on children's development. I've done them for years, even when Rowen was a lap baby, staring at the goofy on-screen computer cues that researchers eat up for a living. Lane's gotten a few certificates himself, dubbing him a "master" of infant development. We do it for fun and to spend a little time together.

We pulled onto campus today and I stepped foot in the new psychology building on campus. Once upon a time, the old psych building that stood in it's place was my stomping ground. I walked past the many students lining the hallways with books and study notes in hand and thought about once upon a time. Instead of a bookbag, I donned a precocious 3-year-old who didn't know they meaning of quiet. I had to laugh at how many heads turned at my quizzical little Lane while I was taking in the feeling that once was.

I have to admit, as a school nerd, I felt a twinge of sadness at being absent from any and all classrooms for years now. It also stirred up feelings of what life was like before autism. My heart pounded at the thought of freedom I had long ago, and then dropped at the idea of autism having taken some of that away. I missed it. For a moment I missed my once upon a time life devoid of therapists, doctors, and endless research on a disorder we practically know nothing about. For a moment I was back in time, having erased all the hardship that comes with autism.

Lane brought me back to reality with his excessive chatter with the research assistant and as we approached the door, I realized my reminiscing not only erased autism but it erased everything I've come to love in this world. It erased first birthdays, little boy hugs, fingerpaintings on my fridge. It erased goodnight kisses, chatterboxes, and reading Thomas the Tank Engine books. It erased notes telling me I'm the best mom in 6-year-old handwriting and mischievous smiles from a toddler who wants me to sing "Glory of Love" at bedtime- again. It erased two little boys that bring the most joy I've ever experienced. And though that joy came with the devastating lows that autism creates, I realize that my former life didn't hold a candle to what I have now.

Lane finished his research trial (now I know he prefers to play with bars of soap rather than actual toys- at least Christmas will be cheap this year), and we walked back through the halls where students still crammed for tests and scribbled on their papers. I grabbed Lane's little hand and packed him in his carseat, chattering away about the banana he was eating and the new "E-I-E-I-O" book he got as payment. I took my little chatterbox (I really think he has a word quota he has to meet each day) and drove off campus, saying a goodbye under my breath to a life that once was. I turned my blinker on toward home, but made a stop at the candy store. I guess the candy store is also akin to Disney World, because Lane lit up like Christmas at the chance to pick out anything he wanted. He picked out a 50-cent succer, one for him and one to give his big brother when he got home from school. What a sweet smile my little scholar has. Now that's something I'd never want to see erased.