Having a blog is sometimes not unlike a diary (for some of us more than others), but mostly it’s an almost-daily calendar filler. What we’ve done, what’s happening in the world, who snotted where, blahblahblah. Sometimes it’s a chance to flex some narrative creativity – and those are my favorite posts, personally – but mostly it’s a happy presentation with moments of rawness written for catharsis. It’s been a year since I jumped to WordPress, and every once in a while, I re-read old stuff out of boredom. I generally stay away from the autism tags, but today I was shocked to discover how.. foreign.. it was to read the posts from last year. They seemed new to me, as if I couldn’t relate.

(Maybe I’ve got incredibly premature dementia. Which, I think I’ve seen a news report actually call that momnesia. Which is so irritating. Why does everything have to have some cutsie name – especially within motherhood? Whatever, I digress.)

Anyway, I found this one from last summer. Wow. I mean, of course I remember that, and yet it seems like eons ago. We still have communication issues (he answered a question about power lines with “fo shizzle my dizzle” last week) but NOTHING like we did then. And in honesty it hurts to read some of the old posts about autism, because it’s always in retrospect that I realize how survival-mode we were (are) in. But, I know it’s important for me to do, because I need the reminder of how far we’ve come. Yes, he still makes my eyeballs roll around in my head with his incessant (perserverating, nonstop, never ending and REALLY LOUD) chatter, but hell, today’s chatter is nothing compared to last year’s, and in a year it will have changed again. Most parents are sad about that; I’m rejoicing. That’s progress, after all.

And if I’m going to be even more honest, the truth is that his success is all him. I circle him to give him a safety wall to bounce off of, but his growth is all him. He’s developed astronomically this past year – with school, social situations, potty learning, reading/writing – and he has had to do it with an inherent roadblock of incomprehension, inability to communicate and bouts of severe anxiety.

As hard as this is for us, it has to be even harder for him, and I forget that a lot.

So I just wanted to give him some quick (and mom-cheesy, if not still legit) props, for all the times I’ve muttered (or yelled) how much I hate autism. Because really, I can’t. Without autism – and all its frustrations – I wouldn’t have Jack. And this kid is amazing. He’s stubborn and strong and more resilient than me most days.

Keep on keepin’ on, little man. I love you.