Sometimes it hits me...

For the most part, I see big brother as a perfectly average, normal little boy.  And, for the most part, he is.  But every once in a while, a situation comes up that reminds me that he is still very delayed.  Case in point:  I have been a little worried about his transition from nursery to sunbeams.  I was even more nervous when I got called to be the Primary Secretary.  Me being in the same room doesn't help with his mama's-boy-attachment thing.  He does better when I'm out of sight, out of mind.  His teacher is super cute and stopped by with a treat Saturday night and introduced herself.  I explained his challenges to her so she would know what to expect.  She gave us a spotlight sheet for him.  And it hit me.  I have no idea what his favorite color is.  He knows his colors, sure enough.  But if you ask him what his favorite is, he just looks at you with this blank stare.  He has no idea what you're talking about.  Hence the diagnosis, communication delayed.  I've been talking up sunbeams all week, and he was giving me the same blank stare.  Sunday came and we tried to get him to sit with his class during Sharing and Singing Time.  No go.  He screamed.  People tried to reassure  me that it's just a first week sunbeam thing.  That is part of it, I'm sure.  But I know, as his mother, that he is confused.  He doesn't understand what is going on.  And because he can't communicate with words, he has no coping skills to deal with confusion.  He just loses it.  And there is nothing that can calm him down.  He still uses the binky because that has become his coping mechanism.  His vocabulary has improved dramatically, and he can talk.  He just cannot communicate.  There is a difference.  So he's screaming and throwing a fit, and I know the best way to help him is to give him his coping mechanism, aka the binky, and his blanky.  And since we are in a new ward where nobody really knows us and therefore haven't been around as we've dealt with his struggles since the age of 2, they are all kind of looking at me.  That look that seems to say "Well, of course he's losing it, you're still letting him have his binky and his blanky!"  I don't know if that's what they were all thinking, but I know people think it because people have said it to me.  Yes, he is almost 4.  He shouldn't need a binky.  But he does.  We took it away for a couple weeks and the only result was more fits and less sleep.  Which got progressively worse, not better, as the weeks went by.  I am still trying to navigate this world of disability for my son.  And I worry.  Will he eventually be able to communicate on a normal level?  Will he eventually test out of the special needs preschool like little sister did?  Will this be a problem his whole life?  And if it is, how do I best mother this precious son of mine?  How will the world treat him?  And in that moment I missed all my old friends, who have somewhat taken this journey with me and my son, and understand his challenges and I don't really have to explain.  And so yesterday was hard.  Eventually, sharing time ended and I took him to his classroom.  I put him on a chair and shut the door and walked away, listening to him scream as I walked down the hall.  I went back a few minutes later and he had stopped screaming, as I knew he would.  Out of sight, out of mind.  When we picked him up, the teacher said he had just laid by the door and kind of fallen asleep.  He has good teachers.  They will work with him and he will be fine.  He may just follow me around during Sharing time and then go with his class for the lesson.  It will be ok.  But how I wish I could explain what is happening.  How scary, to live in a world and not understand what is going on and why things are changing.  To be so confused.  Yup.  Sometimes it hits me.  This little boy who loves to cuddle, lovest to wrestle and be tickled, loves puzzles, LOVES Little Einsteins, loves to sing, loves to cover his mouth with his hands when he laughs, love to play with his best friend cousins Tommy & Jonny, loves to unload the dishwasher, loves to brush my hair, loves to play games on the computer, and loves to wear his sisters shoes, has some extra challenges.  I see him as my normal, sweet boy, and he is.  He is just not your average almost-four-year-old.  And sometimes, that reality hits me (and him) in the face a little hard.