Punch to the Gut

There we are, going along on our little paths, when - totally out of the blue - BAM.  Something breaks through like a punch to the gut.

I couldn't be happier in anyone else's shoes.  I am well aware of the fact that sayings become cliches largely due to the grain of truth that's embedded in each one.  I know that things are not always as they seem, and I know that the grass ain't always greener on the other side of the fence.

I couldn't be prouder of my little girl and the progress she has made in the past three years.  Does she speak?  No.  Does she communicate?  Hell yes, in her own way.  She makes eye contact.  She smiles and engages people. 

She draws us all in and shows us beyond the shadow of a doubt that autism doesn't mean totally introverted.  It doesn't mean permanently downcast eyes.  It doesn't mean complete inability to interact in social situations.

Not to my girl, it doesn't.

But what it does mean is that she has to work that much harder, now, and likely for the rest of her life, to accomplish her goals, whatever they may be. 

Normal is not a word you'll hear uttered in our little yellow house every day.  "Normal" is as elusive to us as "existential" is to some people.  We know what works for us, and we're happy with our unique little corner of the world.

Any of you who have children are probably going through the same thing we are at the moment: family requests for Christmas wish lists.  I can remember being The Princess's age, sitting in Grandma Dorothy's spinny dining room chair on top of a stack of phone books, circling the things I wanted out of the Sears catalog with a red marker, dog-earing the pages and adding exclamation points next to the things I really wanted.

Nowadays, it's a bit different.  Our girl pays absolutely no attention to the television or any other kind of marketing ploys from the big toy companies.  She's at her happiest when playing with a string of yarn with a bead tied on the end of it.  We have hundreds of toys in the basement that she has received for past birthdays and Christmases, none of which she's ready for yet.

Damn those age ranges on the toy packages.

How do I explain to everyone who loves my girl that I can't think of a single thing she would give a hoot about?  That she's happiest with the toys she's had since she was born?  That she - and it breaks my heart just a little to say this - probably wouldn't know the difference either way? 

The optimist in me is sure that The Hubbs and I will be able to come up with something, and that it will be brilliant.

Right now, though?  Not so much.