"Thanks for Not Hitting Me, Mom"

“Thanks for not hitting me, Mom” my son shouted out in happiness while he sat with the rest of his ninja class this morning. His very first-time being part of this ninja class, might I add.

I smiled and gave him a thumbs up while I pretended to not see all of the parents (whom I had never met until that day) give me a sideways glance no doubt wondering “what in the world….”

I think every single parent out there has had these embarrassing moments when we want to crawl underneath the nearest obstacle and hide until no one is left standing around you.

This morning was one of those days for me.

My son, Joey, is the most loving, happy and brilliant young ten-year-old. And level 1 autistic. His difference, the way God made his brain and processing so INCREDIBLE, is this amazing gift that has been one of my biggest lessons in life thus far.

Yet, until you get to know him, know how he processes information and where/when/how he is going to communicate it - it can be a challenge to navigate and to know how to respond.

And these moments are not necessarily all that rare.

What I love most about him, and what has also been the most substantial hurdle for me to climb, has been how social “norms” are completely irrelevant to him.

He says what he thinks, what interests him, what confuses him, what he loves in the moment, and he doesn’t give a damn who hears.

To most people in that room this morning, I am sure they are wondering something like “woah is this kid thanking his mom for her not hitting him because she normally does??”

Before Joey - that is probably what I would have thought.

But no - Joey was genuinely, 100% thanking me for NOT being THAT kind of mother.

He watched some show that had a mean mother who yelled at her kids, called them horrid, pulled their ear to go to bed, etc.

When he sees horrible choices made by people, I try to encourage him to find the positive - something like “thanks Mom for not hitting me” as in “thank you for loving me as I am and not losing your shit.”

We try to have those discussions that some things are okay to say in the privacy of our home not in public, but these unwritten rules about what we can and can’t do depending on where we are or who we are with are just nonsense to him.

I’m sure he just sees it as wasted energy trying to keep up with societal expectations to not “offend” anyone on accident.

He loves skin color. Loves it. Is fascinated by it. We often say, “God wanted us all to be different.”
One time, walking out of a social group, there was a woman with the most BEAUTIFUL ebony skin. When we passed her Joey said, “Mom the world would be so boring if God made us look all the same.”
The woman smiled, looked at Joey and said “Amen.”

The truth is, this beautiful gift of his to tell it like he sees it, but without an OUNCE of hatred or prejudice, just pure innocent observation, is something I am terrified is going to get him hurt.

I think of myself in the karate studio.

I wanted to cry. I was completely embarrassed and immediately thought of all of the awful judgements the other parents MUST be making about me. About him. About our family.

I think about what would have happened if that kind woman wasn’t as kind and responsive and took his comment in an unintended or sarcastic manner.

In so many ways, this world is just not ready for these beautiful little souls who I swear on every ounce of my existence, were placed here on this earth to mirror back to us our own hypocrisies and judgement and shortcomings through their pure and simple perceptions of life.

He genuinely loves everything around him - even though in so many ways - this world is so, so hard for him.

This morning, I was struggling with my ego’s emotions. This was a ME problem - not a “Joey’s comment problem.” And I have had ten years of practicing and learning to understand how to roll with him, how to understand where he is coming from and how to see the unconditional love and appreciation he emanates.

He did nothing wrong. He thanked me for being a loving mother - in his own way.

And he mirrored back to me all of my fears of how others perceive me and my children. He mirrored back my own lack of self-confidence that still exists no matter how much internal repair I have done.

I know the kind of mother I am. I am a damn good one. Not perfect or even close, but you’d be hard pressed to find a more loving and patient one.

Yet here I was succumbing to what I was afraid others would think of me - when my son was showing me gratitude.

Through his teachings, I have learned some of the deepest wounds and fears that I have carried with me most of my life.

He highlights the places I still need to heal.

The unconditional acceptance I still need to learn. Of others - and myself.

The glasses of societal expectations that are based on nothing other than “they just are” that I still need to remove.

I know I can’t protect him from disapproving or confused eyes.

I know this won’t be the last time my ego gets the best of me and instead of being present with him in his comments or observations I get lost in my own head.

But I hope someday the world sees the gift of perception he and so many children are laying at our feet right now hoping we have the courage to pick them up and SEE the world and each other in a new way.

To love and accept ourselves and others in a new way.

Being a mother to both Joey and my beautiful daughter, Lexi (you’ll certainly hear about this young lady in future posts), has been nothing like I expected.

Where I thought I would be the one to teach them all about life, somehow, they have managed to be my biggest teachers.

And I am so grateful he thanked me for not hitting him, in a room full of confused faces.

He professed his love and gratitude to me in the most meaningful way he could at that time.
​
I pray the next time, I find the strength in myself to disregard what others think, and shout back “I love you too buddy. Thank you for being a blessing.”

Read More!