Someone said that to me in a comment on this blog a while back. I didn’t think it really bugged me. But it keeps bubbling back up to the surface.
Get over yourself.
Instead of being some snarky comment, it’s morphed into something new. Like a slogan. Like something I’m working to do:
Get over myself.
Today I let the kids stay after school to play. We do this just about every day. I usually have Abby with me, so I don’t get to just watch like I did today. Lance was home sick, so I left her home with him (revenge? Maybe. He didn’t see it as such, so I guess it doesn’t count). And then I watched.
I watched as Carter played basketball. That kid has a lot of talent. But he has a lot of love, too. He stays and plays after school with his friends for at least an hour every single day. He’d stay as long as there was someone to play with and light in the sky, if we’d let him. Probably later.
I had to watch as Peyton made more weapons out of sticks and stones he found. No kidding. Turns out that’s what he does during recess, too. I could NOT watch because if I stopped paying attention to what he was doing and saying to me, he’d seek out a new mom to bug about it. And that just made us both look bad.
And then I watched Casey. By himself. He had his hands up and and was sort of flittering his fingers as he does. He’d run this way and that, not really paying attention to where he was going or what was going on around him. A couple of times, he ran right into another basketball game that was going on. Kids and balls would bounce off of him, someone would yell, and he’d absently flitter away. It made me sad to see him playing alone. Really sad. The tears came.
So there I was, the crazy mom, sitting on a stump crying while her youngest son sat at her feet making shivs.
“Get over yourself” I heard in my head.
So I went over to Casey and asked him what he was doing.
Me: Are you happy?
It was sad for me. He was alone. He didn’t care about telling me what was going on, and certainly didn’t care about the other kids. I felt so sad for my little boy. He wasn’t sad.
Granted, he’s not very convincing when he says he’s happy, but keep in mind, he has autism. Emotions don’t have to be convincing to be true. He was FINE. He was in his element. He was chasing the butterflies. The only one who wasn’t fine with the entire situation was me.
For right now, the battle over the sadness that comes with his autism is ONLY mine. He doesn’t care. Casey was doing what HE wanted to do. And it didn’t matter who was watching or who thought he was weird. HE was happy. And that’s why I need to get over myself and see what I find.
Because it’s good stuff.