Winner of ❝It's Okay To Not Be Okay❞ contest

by KEJennings

The day begins like any other in my life. I wake at 4:30 with my ten year old son, my eyes prying open slowly, not fully out of my dream state from moments before. It was a school day. This meant the employment of our weekday schedule. Get dressed, the both of us, herd everything downstairs and get breakfast going. I'm so used to it after years of the same thing, I could do it in my sleep. Wearing a clown suit. Or a gorilla costume. Any which way really.

"Did you buy more mini donuts mom?"

My son asks this question pretty much every day. He is a mini powdered donut fiend. One who happens to also have autism, or the artist formally known as Asperger's. Sorry, have to slide a Prince joke in!

"Yes, son. We have mini donuts. But you need to eat some fruit too."

He grumbles a bit, as he usually does. He has a list of preferred foods. I let him eat them but also slide in the less preferred, in textures he can handle, just to balance things out. This can be a common problem for some kids with autism and I assume some adults that happen to have autism as well, if they haven't adapted to more variety.

"Will you put some beef jerky in my lunch box?" He asks.

"Yes, but make sure you don't give it all away....I want you to eat your lunch, not your entire class." I say.

He grumbles again but agrees. He's a very social kid, and has quite a few friends. Not a terrible problem to have. Even if they try poaching his food.

I get his bento lunch box filled with tiny assortment of things and then ready my morning coffee cup. I have to have a serving of decaf, black with nothing in it, to get my day going. It's the taste. The glorious Hawaiian filtered taste. Nothing on earth can transport me back to the islands and all its accompanying sensations quite like my daily cup of joe. A parents moment of nirvana.

He eats and I clean, more daily rituals.

By this time my husband gets up and starts his day. We are like ships of different sizes moored in the same harbor. He a speed boat that takes tourists around and me a tiny tug, with a different job to contend with all day. We banter as my son gets his shoes on and I gather up all his school items. Dad jokes fly down the stairs as we leave the house.

If the world was a weight around my neck, it would be one of those rusty love locks on the Paris bridge. They carry worn secrets with them, on display for any poor sap brave enough to venture near. But like anything else, all you can do is keep moving forward. Giving in isn't an option.

To school we go.

____________

"We can play that if you want." I say, watching my son scroll through the games on the Switch.

Sitting in the school parking lot, we do another ritual. He likes me to get here early and park in the parking lot instead of sitting in the parent drop off loop. This way, we can hang out together for a good half hour, the game console propped up on my Jeep's dashboard. The heater keeping us warm, we contemplate what game to play today.

He looks at me with a thoughtful face.

"I don't mean to offend you...but you are a noob at that one mom. I'm able to win the harder levels when dad plays with me."

For some reason this makes me laugh. I love how honest he can be, and how inexplicably polite he is while telling it to me.

"I understand dude, but can we try it anyway? I like playing Minecraft Dungeons with you." I counter.

"Fiiiine. I'll put it on an easy level. Try your best." He says.

We play as other parents park around us. I notice the slight smiles and few stares as they walk by and see what we are doing. Do they wonder why I'd play video games with my son every morning before school? Are they judging me for letting us do it? Does it make me a bad mom? My response would be 'it's great for bonding' and 'live a little'. We do a lot of therapy at home and homework, he is getting all the needed things done. But this...this time is ours.

"Yep. Noob." My son snickers as I die over and over in the game.

I tickle him briefly and finally help us to finish the level. My eyes are straining to see the tiny screen on the Switch face. It's time for us to pack it up and walk him up to school. He still will hug me if I ask and holds my hand as we cross the road, but he walks in by himself with his friends. I watch him go before I depart. Back to grownup land for six hours.

Back to much needed coffee.

____________

The term 'grader' was coined when my son was in kindergarten. He randomly said it one day and we couldn't figure out what he meant, until he said "I want to be a grader! Like first graders!" Now that he is a grader, we remind him to be a good example. Not like the graders who bothered him when he was a low man on the totem pole.

I'm back to waiting at the school, but this time without video games. It's been a really long day full of the usual grown up junk. I feel a tad down but nothing too bad. The old mantra 'it's ok to not be ok' rings true. Some days are just like that after all. What I could use is a laugh.

My phone alarm rings out through the Jeep and I shut it off, stretching as I get out. Time to get going. Hopefully tonight I'll get more sleep! I amble over to stand with the other parents. Some chipper, some tired. We wait as the kids begin to filter out. I spot mine walking, his arms toting all his school wares. He looks good, though tired as well.

"Hey mom."

Handing me his laptop bag, he then takes my hand as we cross the parking lot.

"Hey, son. How was your day?"

We climb into the Jeep and I begin to back out of the parking space. He looks thoughtful again as he waits to answer me, giving a large sigh. Internally I panic a bit, had something happened at school? Was anyone mean to him? Finally, he answers, completely deadpan.

"At second recess something happened..."

Here it was, he was going to tell me he got picked on or got into trouble.

"What happened at second recess??" I ask, pulling in the long line of cars waiting to exit school property.

"There were kindergartners everywhere.." He says.

I glance backwards at him. He nods his head but still maintains his serious face.

"What do you mean everywhere?"

He is still nodding his head.

"Yeah..it's true..they were everywhere. In every zone. Running around creating havoc. They were even loose in the bus loop.."

I bust out laughing so hard my eyes fill with tears. I can barely get my eyes to focus on the bumper in front of me.

"I asked the playground duties what we were supposed to do since the kindergartners were all over the place but even they didn't know what was going on." He finishes, still serious.

Now I'm laughing harder. In the car opposite me a man sits, waiting to get his kid still. He is staring at me with a goofy smile. I must look like a lunatic.

"Are you laughing cause of the kindergartners mom?" My son chuckles.

"Yes!!" I squeak, trying to calm myself down.

Images of a massive five year old filled army, swarming the playground like Scots in 'Braveheart' fill my head. It's funnier than I could have imagined. What a 'grader' problem to have!

"It was pure chaos alright.." He says.

"I'm sure it was!" I say, wiping tears from my wet eyes.

The extra crazy laughing sent endorphins throughout my body, effectively erasing the blah feeling and stress for a few precious moments. It's glorious.

"Mom."

"Yeah, son?"

"Want to play a three player game when we get home with dad?"

I smile as we turn out of the school parking lot.

"Yes. Sounds good, son."