A friend of mine noted this weekend that when she needs to talk to someone she always gives them something to do with their hands, like playing a card game. It allows them to fill in the pauses in conversation, and keeping their eyes on something else helps them open up and drop thoughts and feeling they wouldn't ordinarily let go. Maybe that's why she's always inviting me over to knit. And maybe that's why, while I was struggling with my new sock project complete with fine-gauge yarn and double-pointed needles, I let go more than I had intended to about my frustrations with P's struggles with math and my own feelings of inadequacy as his mom.
At one point I said, getting worked up, "The thing is, this will never be fixed. Never. There have been so many times where I thought it was done, that everything was just going to be great, but it never will be. There will always be another challenge or another thing going wrong, every single year. I've been hanging onto the hope that someday he'd be typical, but he never will be."
She rolled her eyes and waved her hand. "What's so great about typical? Who wants their kid to be typical?" she asked.
"I DO," I said. "There are some SOLID BENEFITS to being average."
"Well, yeah," she demurred. But we both knew what she was thinking...he'd never get there, so why dwell on it.
I spent Monday feeling sick to my stomach, and between projects at work I looked at adaptive math programs for kids with dysgraphia. There's just so little out there. He's failing and there's not a thing I can do about it. And let's not get started on his social skills or emotions...I feel like he has so many challenges that it's imperative to build on his strengths.
I'm so tired of fighting. I'm so tired of feeling like every new year is a new discovery about what he can't do. I just want him to have good grades and friends and a place where he fits in.
Typical would not be so bad.