Ok, so this is my friend Lorri, and her gorgeous family. I love this girl, for her heart, her honesty, sense of humor and perfect use of the bandana. She is a writer, who has been developing her voice….one that I can’t get enough of. Lorri writes from the very depths of her soul, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am for her friendship. She posted this beautiful piece of raw emotion on Facebook yesterday, and with her permission, I am sharing it with you. Enjoy.
I said the dumbest thing the other day. I’ve been cringing for days. The only thing I can think to do is just tell you all about it in hopes that my mind will stop returning to it, kind of like when you burn the roof of your mouth and your tongue keeps finding the tender spot over and over and over again. Ugh, it doesn’t feel that good so please just make it stop.
Let it go.
I took Zach to the dentist to get a tooth pulled. Drama and tears ensued. Patience waned. Nitrous oxide prevailed. As the effects of the nitrous overcame Zach, he was pretty happy.
This is the moment, people.
The moment that I could have just shut up and been relieved that it was finally going well. I don’t know why I said what I said. All I can think is that I have an uncontrollable need to make Zach, my brilliant, hilarious and very stubborn son who is on the autism spectrum, step out of his rigid judgments and see things in a new way. If an opportunity presents itself that I can shine a new light on something that he is very black and white about, I do it. It’s a compulsion born of many, many discussions-arguments-debates over everything from drywall textures to Wall-E to fish (he’s a nofishetarian).
It’s a reflex, if you will.
It’s the only excuse I have for what came next. So as Zach was dreamily talking about how relaxed he felt and how awesome the gas was, I said, “You know how you say you’re never going to drink a beer? This is kind of why people drink alcohol.”
Yes. That’s right. I was promoting alcohol to my 13-year-old son.
In front of two professional adults. As soon as the words were out I wanted to reel them back in. They landed like a turd on the floor. Thankfully, Zach saved me by saying something funny and rambling. He said, “OK, I’ll drink beer…no, never mind, I’m never going to drink alcohol. It smells terrible. I’ll just go to the dentist…” HAHAHAHAHAhahahahehehehehahahaha. Ha. Heh. heh. (stupid. stupid. stupid.)
I mean, I can’t call my dentist and explain where I was coming from, right? Right? (“You know he has autism, he’s just so black and white about everything…” Subtext: “Please, Dr. Dentist and your nice assistant, please don’t judge me or call anyone because I tried to convince my 13-year-old that beer is good.”)
Make it go away.