On Kael

It should have been lovely. Fun. Easy.

It wasn't.

We were at a neighbor's house for the Super Bowl and I was struck by what a hard time Kael was having.  To Kent's credit, he knew, going in.  "This is going to be tough for Kael," he said.

We were taking him to a place he knew, to watch a game he loved, and to eat some of his favorite foods. Sure, there were a LOT of people there, but I was hopeful that he'd handle it.

I outlined my expectations before we left.  Simple stuff.  Food and drink stays in the kitchen. No yelling, running, etc.

We hadn't been there for ten minutes and he was throwing balls against the wall, trying to break into the room the girls were playing in after they'd clearly asked him to "stay out!" (they were practicing a top-secret Frozen performance), taking drinks into the living room, asking for food after I'd told him no, then yelling, "That is so rude!" at me as he stomped away.

Typical nine-year-old behavior? Maybe.  But you guys, I knock myself out when it comes to parenting Kael.  I'm not the type of mom who lets that kind of stuff slide.  I'm not the type of mom who is afraid to discipline her child.  I'm not the type of mom who flies off the handle and yells. Day in and day out I read- books, blogs, Autism websites- for ideas on how I can reach Kael.  He's not naughty.  He's not "just a typical nine year old".

And I'm frustrated.  I'm ready to throw in the towel.  Because my efforts are not paying off.

It kills me to watch him be the one who is mildly annoying to his peers, and occasionally to adults. (Think Ray Romano's character on Parenthood.) It hurts so badly to be disrespected by him in front of some of my best friends. And my heart breaks when I hear him yelling at Kent. And I told that to Kael.


"Mom?"

"Yes, Kael?"

"Want me to get some glue? You know, for your broken heart?"


And that's how it goes with Kael.  Not an apology.  Not a hug.  Not an "I'll try harder next time".

So, I pick up the pieces of my broken heart and forge ahead.  Today is a new day and I'm certain he'll come bounding in the door after school with a smile on his face and absolutely no memory of what a tough evening last night was.  I'll ask how his day was and he'll respond with something like, "Owen got a haircut."

And that's my Kael.  And I love him so much it hurts.