Incredible (not edible) Cam

Sometimes being the mother of a child with issues can break your heart. Most of the time, it’s easy to focus on all the ways Camden is normal, rather than notice his differences. I see all the progress that he has made in the past few years and I am proud of how much he has grown and progressed. But sometimes something happens that brings it all back to your forefront, reminding you yet again that your child isn’t “normal” and may never fit in completely. Yesterday was one of those days that hit me over the head like a brick, leaving me weeping for my child.

Yesterday I picked up my boys from Grandma’s house. She takes care of them during the times when both Mark and I are working. She lives about 20 minutes away, so the drive home is a good chance to talk to my boys about their day. I turn off all music on the drive home and just talk to my sons. After the normal questions – What did you do at school today? Who did you play with? What did you learn? – Camden just started to talk. As he talked, he told me about a group of children at school who call him names, who (according to him) always tease him, and, apparently yesterday, told him his mother was going to die.

Now, I have taught long enough to realize this is kid stuff. Kids are mean to each other. Kids call each other names or say mean things all the time. It’s nothing new or unusual. I am also perfectly aware that Camden is probably not innocent. Knowing my son, he said or did something first that provoked this meanness. I wasn’t there and I am sure I don’t know the full story.

I don’t take what the kids said to Camden personally. Normally it would roll just right off my back. I’m not sure why it bothered me so much yesterday. Maybe it was because I am tired and stressed right now. I just finished two days of presentations to other teachers and have a big project due this week. Maybe it’s because I am hormonal right now. Maybe it’s because Camden takes what other kids say so literally and I have to explain to a worried child that his mother is not going to die (nothing is wrong with me that I know). Maybe it’s just another brick in all the things Camden has going against him that toppled the emotional wall. I’m not sure the reason, but I was left again with the many thoughts that race through my mind on so many occasions.

Why is it that we target so easily those who are different than us? Why is it that we can so easily focus on what is wrong with a person rather than what is right with that person? Why is it that we look for reasons to tear each other down rather than lift each other up

I look at my beautiful son with his beautiful soul. He has so much to offer. There is so much that is right with that child, so much that is wonderful. Daily I delight in this precious treasure. Why is it that others cannot see what I see when I look at him?

I get regular emails from Camden’s school, telling me about another behavior problem. I appreciate those emails because I always follow up with consequences at home (I do not let the fact that my son has PDD-NOS and SPD excuse his behavior), but I know there are other parents don’t get those emails because their child doesn’t have problems at school. I have coworkers who chuckle when I say I got yet another email from his school, smug in the fact that they never received such communication about their child. At church I get questions asking about how Camden is behaving that day because they don’t want him to act up yet again. It seems like everywhere we go, somebody is judging my son because he has some issues and because, as a result of those issues, he doesn’t always act like all the other kids his age.

I hate the fact that Camden’s only safe haven, the only place he is loved unconditionally, is his home. I hate the fact that the only people to focus on the positives of Camden, rather than the negative, are a few family members and close friends. I hate the fact that each day my son walks into a world where judgment and criticism face him at every turn and I can do nothing to stop it.

Instead of noticing that my child sometimes scratches his butt in public or sometimes picks his nose, why not notice how he can define the word nocturnal? Instead of noticing how my SPD child hums to himself to block out noise, why not notice how his sensitive hearing allows him to memorize and repeat funny lines from TV and movies? Instead of noticing his obsession with video games, why not notice the creative games he creates to play with friends or the detailed pictures he draws as a result of these video games? Instead of asking if Camden is going to behave during the Primary program (after you sat a kid with SPD right by the organ during the opening exercises), why not notice he is probably the only kid his age with his speaking part memorized, needing no help or prompting at the podium? Instead of noticing how quirky he is or that he sometimes says socially awkward things, why not notice how he loves to talk to anybody at any time and has never met a stranger?

My son, with all his uniqueness, has so much to offer this world. Yesterday, as we drove home and after the conversation about the kids being mean, Camden said, “Look at those beautiful lines” as he pointed at the power lines running alongside the road. He proceeded to tell me how awesome power lines were with their dips between poles creating waves. Then he said, “It’s amazing how those lines attach to houses.” What a profound observation! Here I was, focusing on the gray road ahead of me and silently worrying about my son, while he was noticing the beauty of something so simple – power lines. When was the last time you stopped to noticed power lines, let alone the way they look and work?

I would not change my son for the world. Camden, with all his quirkiness and issues, with all the things that make him challenging, is so uniquely beautiful. His issues make him who he is. He is charming and endearing. He is funny and smart. He is perfect, just the way he is. I have no doubt that God made him this way. Wishing away his issues would be wishing away the essence of my son, my first born, the child who made me a mother and I would never wish that away. I only wish others could look for and focus on all that makes my son completely incredible.