Today Henry had a wonderful time at Kidzu with his class. We prepped him for the last few days (gently and sparingly, careful not to overdo it) and felt confident he would be fine with the change in routine. This morning he was especially excited about the fact his class would be riding a blue Chapel Hill bus to the museum. I dropped him off feeling great about the day.
It never occurred to me that he would want to ride the bus back to school, which was not part of the plan. I arrived to see him happy, but as soon as he saw me the meltdown began. Parents and museum staff witnessed the screams, hits, and loud "shut-up." I gathered him into my arms for a tight hug and managed to calm him enough to coax him out of the museum and into the mall. The meltdown ramped up again as he realized we were leaving in my car. I did all the right things, or at least the things I've been trained to do, and the moment was probably much shorter than it felt. Still, mall shoppers stared as Henry shrieked. The all-too-familiar thoughts creeped in: They think he's a brat. They think I'm a sucker. I want to tell them the truth. He's not bratty, he's hurting….
But I had a migraine and my precious boy to deal with, so I shoved those thoughts away. What I have to do on days like today is evaluate, learn, and move on. That's easier said than done, of course, but I guess most hard things in life are.
I'm glad I have a fabulous husband, extended family, and Henry's therapist team to lean on when we have hard times. For the last two hours Henry has happily entertained himself while I nursed a migraine and waves of nausea. That's something to give thanks for too.
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