Somewhere in the Middle

I guess you could say I have become a bit of a loner. It comes in stark contrast to my high school days where I erred on the side of obnoxious class clown. Ok, maybe even after a little after high school.

When I go to pick up Rowen after school, I mostly keep to myself. There are some other sweet moms that I could easily strike up more conversations with, but my constant need to oversee my rambunctious boys shuts that down pretty quick. The other day I caught Lane with his arms around some kid's neck, and as I darted toward him in a panic he said, "Wook, mom! Headwock!" Classic daddy wrestling move, but it managed to jump start my heart pretty fast. Ok son, how about we find that swing set waaay over there?

From years of watching out for Rowen and his sudden outbursts and inability to control himself, I have worked my way into a high alert status that leaves little room for anything other than on-duty-mom. I am sure most of this is in my head since we can look pretty normal most of the time. I am just always ready for the next move. High alert. I think this leaves us somewhere in the middle.

Rowen has always been high-functioning enough that he is verbal, social, and can play kind of like the rest of them. But watch us for more than 10 minutes or so and you will see the cracks in our foundation. Big, giant, cracks that often threaten to pull me under.

Rowen had a serious meltdown last week because I broke the yolk in his egg as I was making it. He never recovered. In fact, I got a lovely call from the principal that day to emphasize how he hadn't recovered. This morning we managed to dodge a bullet because I was able to find the socks he was looking for before the storm broke. Oh, it rained for sure, but at least we managed to seek shelter before the tornado ripped right through us. We also recovered last night from a major meltdown over some homework. At Lane's T-ball practice, I managed to eke out a quiet spot to help Rowen finish his homework. Home run.

As I was dropping Rowen off at school this morning he asked, "Mom, is there something wrong with my brain?" Sound of mom's heart breaking. After my reassurances, I couldn't help but think about that giant foundational crack we have in our seemingly normal system.

I was listening to an interview of a woman I have been following for years who started the TLC Foundation for pediatric cancer. At the end, there was talk of finding the right platform to raise awareness for something you see as a good cause. Somewhere in the Middle comes to mind, because that's exactly where we are. Don't get me wrong, I don't feel like we are in the middle. I feel like we are in the trenches with bullets flying overhead every second of every day. But we look as though we are on the normal side. "Oh he seems fine," should be tattooed across my forehead.

I often wonder if this lonely place is where so many autism moms find themselves. We become isolated because we look like we can fit in but we just don't. So thank you for reading about our daily lives. And if you would like to share this so others who are in the middle can relate, feel free. Sometimes the middle can be the loneliest place of all.

Then again, it might not always be...